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^ 



i LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 



Chap, E.L2^9..._. 
Shelf -_.]£)7 g. G 




^^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 




Ai— 



J A N 



A TALE OF 



THE EARLY HISTORY OF BROOKLYN. 



BY 

A. L. 0. B. 



N. <£> 



Kjy-r 




v-i-D? CC/Vtv, 






:^y 



brooklyn, n. y. 

Orphans' Pres^^CtTurch Charity Foundation. 

1883. 



PREFACE. 




HIS story was written for the chil- 
dren of Brookl3/n, that they may 
remember, when they read the his- 
tory of colonial days, that our forefathers 
suffered the same hardships as other set- 
tlers, and emptied as much tea in New York 
harbor as the Bostonians did there. 



JAN 




I. 

NE pleasant day in May, 1623, a 
vessel was sailing up a bay. After 
passing through a narrow strait, and 
around an island, it was heading for the land 
before it. 

It was a strange looking vessel, with round 
bow and stern, different from the pointed 
ones we are familiar with. On the deck 
were assembled all the passengers, in groups 
of two and three, or families, with their 
chests and beds. Weak and wan were many 
of them, for they had been two long months 
on their voyage, sailing across the ocean. 



6 Jan : A Tale of 

Fierce storms had driven them back, until 
they were almost discouraged ; but at last, 
the morning before, they had opened their 
eyes and looked upon the green land and 
the hills which appeared so strange to them, 
accustomed to the flat level land of Holland. 
They would hardly retire to their berths, 
the night before, for fear the land might 
prove an island, and disappear before morn- 
ing ; but no, in the morning it was still there, 
and Captain May assured them if they con- 
tinued to have favorable winds, they would 
soon reach New Amsterdam, their destina- 
tion. 

At the forward end of the boat sat a wo- 
man, still ill and weak ; by her side stood a 
boy, a short, round, red-cheeked Holland 
boy, the first Jan Van Scoy, who had not 
had one day's illness since they left home- 
He had learned to climb the masts and tell; 
the ropes as well as the oldest sailor. He 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 7 

had enjoyed every day of the voyage, but 
was as happy as the rest to know they would 
soon be on land again. 

His mother had been so ill on the voyage^ 
he had been afraid she would die, and be 
wrapt in a piece of sail-cloth, and buried in 
the sea, as several of their friends who had 
started with them had been ; but on this their 
last day on the water, she had revived, and 
walked up the cabin stairs. 

The vessel sailed so close to the shore 
they could hear the singing of the birds, and 
see the blossoms on the trees. The water 
was smooth and glittered in the sunlight ; the 
sky was blue and clear, and every eye was 
bright and every heart glad, for they ex- 
pected so much happiness in this wonderful 
land. They could see on the point of a long^ 
narrow neck of land, between two rivers, a 
house low and square, built of logS) the only 
one in all that wilderness, built for the traders 



:8 Jan: A Tale of 

oi the West India Company, who bought 
furs from the Indians who inhabited the rest 
of Manhattan Island. The traders called 
this settlement of one house "New Amster- 
^dam," after old Amsterdam, their home in the 
Fatherland. 

Jan, who had very keen eyes, shouted that 
he could see men walking around the house. 
Presently he said he could see several men 
running down to the shore, and then, as the 
distance lessened between the boat and shore, 
the rest recognized their friends. They 
:shouted and waved to each other. Women 
with tears rolling down their cheeks stretched 
•out their hands to those on the shore. Oh, 
joy to see their loved ones, whom the chil- 
<lren had almost forgotten ! 

Before the small boats reached the shore, 
the men walked into the water to meet them, 
.and catching up the children, carried them to 
the shore and into the ''Trading House." 



The Early History of Brooklyn. g 

Soon the re- united families were oathered to- 

o 

getlier, talking over the years since they had 
met. Jan, with the rest of the boys, formed 
themselves into an exploring party, and was 
up on the top of the house before the rest were 
entirely in it. They next visited the store- 
house, and viewed the skins of animals they 
had never seen .; then stretched their limbs 
by playing tag around the immense trees, 
until the gates were locked for the night and 
they w^ere obliged to go in. 

Thirty families came over in the " New 
Netherlands," most of whom started the next 
-day with Captain May, who decided to sail 
up the river Hendrick Hudson had discov- 
<ired, as far as ihe next trading fort. 

For some weeks Jan and his mother re- 
mained at the house at New Amsterdam, 
when his father, placing them and the house- 
hold goods they had brought from Holland 
an a boat, rowed across the Ooest River to 



lo Jan : A Tale of 

Sewanacky, the Island of Shells, as the 
natives called the present Long Island. He 
had bought of Penhawitz, chief of the Can- 
arsee tribe, a tract of land on the shore oppo- 
site the trading house, for a scarlet blanket. 
Here he had raised an Indian cabin of 
skins drawn over four poles, driven in the 
ground at equal distances. The ground was 
carpeted with pine needles. A pile of furs in 
one corner could be spread over the floor for 
beds at night. When the table was placed 
against the side of the tent, with the pewter 
meat dish and spoons shining upon it, the 
hour glass on the swinging shelf; the tulip, 
brought so many miles across the sea, 
planted beside the door, it was quite a home. 
The next day friendly Indians came to see 
them. Jan looked at the strange people 
with the same curiosity with which they 
regarded him. The men dressed in skins, 
their dark faces painted red, green and yel~ 



The Early Histoiy of Brooklyn. 1 1 

low, the tall feathers waving in their hair, 
gravely smoking their pipes. The guttural 
talk of the women as they looked him over 
and over, and admired the bright buttons on 
his jacket, made him tremble for fear they 
miofht take it off him, for it was his best one. 
The others were not unpacked. 

When the darkness deepened and they 
were alone, he could not sleep for the howl- 
inor of the wolves in the forest around the 

o 

cabin. 

The next morning he accompanied his 
father down to the shore, and saw him depart 
in his row-boat ; then hastened back to his 
mother, who could ill disguise her fear of 
the red men, as they looked upon her with 
their piercing black eyes when they passed 
the door. Her husband had explained to 
her that under no consideration must she 
close her door upon her Indian friends, for 
they wcnilcl resent it. He had learned by ex- 



J 2 Jan : A Tale of 

perience that they would treat you as you 
treated them. 

She sat in the door-way on a high back 
Jeatlier-covered chair she liad brought over 
with her, and watched Jan cook the Indian 
corn on a fire built upon a pile of stones, and 
saw the braves in their canoes going and 
■coming fi-om the trading house with their 
furs ; they were mostly of the Canarsee tribe, 
who lived a few miles across the island. 

Amid their loneliness, Jan and his mother 
talked of the goodly land they had found, 
not recalling, as the waves rippled to their 
feet, the land their fellows were laving, 
but onward to tlie time when others would 
share with them those hills crowned with 
flowering dog- wood and horse-chestnuts, and 
the valleys smiling with trailing arbutus and 
the blue violet which filled the air with fra- 
grance. 

When Jan's father returned home that 



Th: EaiHy History of Brooklyn. 13 

night, he brought strings of wampum, or In- 
dian money ; round, fiat pieces of shell, pol- 
ished smooth, which the Canarsie tribe were 
famed for making. When through the sum- 
mer there came to their door squaws sehing 
their wares, Jan would pay them in their own 
coin. These IiuHan women would walk miles 
to sell turkeys or fish to the white men. 

The braves 'spent their time in making ar- 
row-heads of quartz, of different shapes, some 
pointed, some leaf shape, but all regular and 
even. Occasionally they varied their lives 
by a battle with another tribe, perhaps the 
Manhattoes, who were their bitter enemies ; 
they also made their own copper tobacco 
pipes, but the women raised the tobacco they 
smoked, and were the beasts of burden. 

There came to their door one day a young 
squaw, whose face was painted black. They 
knew the woman and had often traded with 
her, but they never saw her look so be- 



14 Jan : A Tale of 

fore. She said nothing as she stepped in, 
and quietly laid her baby down on the furs 
by Mrs. Van Scoy, and sat down on the floor 
beside them. Jan hastened to place food be- 
fore her, but she said '' Aneki's heart is full 
of tears; she cannot eat, for her Brave has 
gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds ;" and 
then, amid her tears, she proceeded to tell 
that in battle an arrow-head had entered 
his arm, and caused his death not many days 
afterwards. 

They buried him sitting, with his bow and 
arrow and wampum beside him, with venison 
and fruits to make him strong in the battles 
he had gone to ; and she would mourn for him 
until the paint had worn off her face by her 
tears. 

That autumn was the most beautiful Jan's 
mother had ever known. She was too ill to 
walk far, but could lie on her bed of skins and 
look through the open doorway on the 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 1 5 

heights aglow with sumac bushes and the yel- 
low of the maples, shaded witli the deep green 
of the pines. After a few cool days came 
the warm Indian summer, when she could 
lean on Jan's arm and walk slowly down to 
the beach. But the beauty departed from hill 
and valley ; the fallen leaves choked the path 
to the spring; the leafless branches of the 
trees moaned around the cabin ; the cold air 
penetrated the skins of the tent, and the days 
grew very long to Mrs. Van Scoy. She 
longed for the narrow streets, and the brick 
houses of old Amsterdam ; the Sundays 
when, upon the ringing of church bells, the 
Burgher and his family walked in line to 
church. She talked to Jan of the old scenes, 
and dreamt of them at night. 

The kind women brought in corn and 
baked it, but it grew distasteful to her, and 
there were no more provisions in the cabin. 
The snow began to cover the dead vines which 



1 6 yan : A Tale of 

swayed against the one window. All the 
meadow was clothed in white ; the ice formed 
over the river, and it was becoming danger- 
ous for Jan to try to get to the trading 
house for food, for now his father had be- 
come ill with lung fever. 

Every day his mother's cough became 
worse, and she lay looking out upon the bay, 
watching ; always watching for the first bird' 
of spring, for then they expected a vessel' 
from Holland — which sight never gladdened 
her eyes. For while the last snow covered the 
ground, she went home, where she would be- 
no more hungry, and where there would be 
no more sea. 

The chief sent six of his braves to carry the 
coffin; the traders came from New Amster- 
dam, and followed with the one mourner. 
After them walked the whole tribe, in single 
file, down the path through the woods, to the- 
edge near the shore; There they laid her tc^ 



The Early History of Bj'ooklyn 17 

rest, where the rays of the setting sun would 
rest upon her grave. In a few days they 
performed the same office for Jan's father, 
and then Jan was alone in the world. 

His friends gathered together his few valu- 
ables and took them with Jan over to the 
trading house, and the cabin was left alone, 
until Jan should be old enough to occupy it. 
In the mean while the tobacco his father had 
planted was to be sold and laid away for him. 



11. 




HE years passed away. Jan was a 
strong, stout boy of sixteen years. 
He still lived at the fort, which had 
replaced the old trading- house. A meet- 
ing was held every Sunday in the top floor 
of a horse mill, while a church was being 
built for Dominie Bogardus. Several boweries 
or farms were laid out on Manhattan Island. 
Jan saw the first shipload of slaves land at 
New Amsterdam, and his heart ached for 
them, as they lie cramped and chained in the 
stone house. 

The Canarsie tribe appeared to adopt Jan. 
He roamed the woods with the Indian boys^ 
who taught him to hunt the bear and deeo 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 19 

and lie under the trees and sleep through the 
warm days, or set around the camp fire in the 
winter and listen to their stories and legends. 
A mile back from the river on the Go- 
wanus Creek, was their great maize fields, 
where the women raised all the maize for 
the tribe. Jan often spent whole days there, 
helping the women and boys, or playing with 
the Httle red skins lying on the grass. At 
their great feast, when the corn was ripe, the 
chief sent him a piece of bark, marked with 
curious characters, and signed with his name, 
— a bow and arrow — which was intended for 
an -invitation for him to join their sports. Jan 
returned, with his acceptance to the chief, 
a bright pewter tobacco box. When he 
reached the camp, the women were sitting in 
their tent doors with the girls and small boys ; 
the braves were all seated in a circle around a 
man they called their priest, who, taking a 
piece of money from each, placed it all upon 



20 Jan: A Tale of 

the top of the tents. Then he brought in a 
beast he called the " Evil Spirit." While the 
attention of the tribe, paralyzed with wonder 
and fear, is fixed upon this evil one, the 
priest collects the money from the tent tops, 
and appropriates it to himself. Then calling 
in a ''Good Spirit," to drive out the evil one, 
the dance commences. 

Each man holding a small stick in his hand, 
with which he strikes the ground, shouts and 
jumps ; then whirls around and around in a 
mad dance, the women gradually joining in. 
The men jump in the fire in their frenzy, 
and seizing fire-brands, throw them in the air. 
Jan shook with terror at the sight of their 
madness, and stealing softly behind their 
tents, away from the light of their camp fire, 
he crept along until the woods hid him. Then 
as the twilight was coming on, he ran along 
the narrow path, as it was not safe to be out 
in the woods after dark on account of the 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 21 

wolves. Slipping and falling, he ran on, un- 
til he saw his own bright fire burning before 
his tent to keep off the wolves. Sinking in- 
to a high-backed chair, he covered 'r.is face 
with his hands to keep out those fearful faces, 
but he could not sleep that night, and at day- 
break rowed over to the fort, and for many 
weeks he would hear in his dreams those 
frightful yells, which never appeared to him 
to come from human throats. It cost him 
some effort to go back again to their camp, 
but in time the bad impression wore off. 

Some of the Walloons, who had setded at 
Albany, came down to New Amsterdam, 
and bought land from the Canarsie tribe on 
Sewanhacky, or Longe Island, as the Dutch 
called it. across the Ooest River. Adrianse 
Bennet bought the next place to Jan's. 
Jacques Bentryn settled at Gowanus. Back 
from the river a mile or so, a few more set- 
tlers built stone liouses, and called it Breuck- 



2 2 J an : A Tale of 

len. Back still further, was a settlement call- 
ed Flatbush, which was the market town, 
Avhere Jan, after he took possession of his 
own land, brouo-ht his tobacco to sell, which 
his honest Dutch neighbors said was the finest 
in the market. 

One da)' Jan was coming down the Bowery 
when he saw a while man ^ive an Indian 
liquor, and then steal his skins. Jan watched 
beside him until he awoke, when he felt his 
loss and vowed vengeance. Jan gave him 
money, and he departed, and the next Jan 
heard was that he had killed two white men, 
afid then fled to his own nation. When the 
sachems heard of this they offered strings of 
wampum to Governor Kieft as restitution, 
but this the Governor refused. At the same 
time the different tribes were at war among 
themselves, but they still believed in and 
trusted the white man, and came in 
droves to New Amsterdam for protection. 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 23 

Some crossed over to the Jersey shore, that 
they might still be near the White Fa- 
ther. 

There was a feast at one of the boweries, 
■and Jan had been all the afternoon trying his 
strength jumping and racing with the other 
youths, and now was walking back to the 
fort, stiff and tired, when he saw Cxovernor 
Kieft's soldiers drawn up before llie fort. 
What in the world could it mean ? He hur- 
ried along, and at last broke into a run as he 
neared them, and met Cornelius De Vreis, a 
landholder from Staten Island, who was 
going with equal rapidity to the fort. 

He asked him the cause of this sudden 
prder of march, but could get no answer, as 
De Vreis began to talk to the Governor ; 
then he found they were going over to the 
Jersey shore to murder the Indians who had 
placed themselves under their protection. 
De Vreis begged the Governor to counter- 



24 Jan : A Tale of 

mand the order, but he was obstinate and 
heated with wine, and would not. 

The soldiers waited until dark before 
crossing; in the mean while Jan tried every 
way to pass the pickets stationed around the 
fort, but was obliged to give up his idea of 
rowing over to warn them. He was desperate,, 
but could only sit with De Vreis in the Gov- 
ernor's kitchen and listen, and wait until the 
midnight silence was broken by the yells and 
screams of the victims, awakened out of their 
sleep, but to be murdered by their guard- 
ians. Jan walked the floor, or buried his 
head in a pile of furs; but he never in after 
life shut out that midnight cry from his mind 
and heart. 

Presently there came to the door some of 
the Indians who had escaped from their pur- 
suers. As they saw Jan, they said, " We are 
come here to hide. The Fort Orange Indians 
are come upon us, and have murdered our 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 25 

wives and little ones." Then Jan, with lips 
colorless with pain and indignation, said, 
" No, it is not those you thought were your 
enemies that have come upon you, it is your 
friends whom you trusted in. There is no 
safety for you here." 

''Go," said De Vreis, ''to the north; and 
in the darkness of the woods you may find 
shelter." 

" Some of you come with me," said Jan. 
"We will go out the side door of the fort, 
while all eyes are fixed upon the Jersey 
shore, and row over to my cabin ; for never 
will I live here again with these murderers." 

The Indians, who had always been so 
friendly with the Dutch, now arose against 
them. Jan, through his intimacy with the 
Canarsies, received first the notice of a plani 
to revenge the massacre on the Jersey shore,, 
by a complete wiping out of the white settle- 
ments. This he quickly told the council irk 



2 6 Jan: A Tale of 

New Amsterdam. The alarm was sounded. 
People residing- upc^n tlieir own boweries, as 
well as the poorest trader, flocked to the fort. 
All the settlers on Long Island came over, 
glad to crowd into a place of comparative 
safetw A council of the landholders decided 
to send two of their number over to Long 
Island to make a treaty with the Indians and 
invite them to the fort. Jan was to lead them 
to Rockaway, to the camp. 

They crossed Sewanachy to the ocean side, 
to the camp, where all the chiefs were assem- 
bled, dressed in their war paint, sitting in 
solemn silence around their speakers. They 
placed the three white men in the centre of 
the circle, and then the speaker began : 

"You pale faces came among us, and we 
received you kindly. Wl'en you were hungry 
we gave you food, fish and corn, and fruits, 
and now you turn against us." And taking 
out one stick from the many he held in his 



The EaiHy History of Brooklyn. 27 

hands, he laid it on the ground. He contin- 
ued, " When you came liere we gave you 
our daughters for wives, and now you fight 
against them." And he laid down another 
stick; when De Vreis interrupting him, asked 
them to come over to New Amsterdam, and 
see the white chief, who would give them 
presents. This they agreed to do — when one 
•of their number arose and said : 

''Are you fools, to trust these white men, 
when they have deceived you so many 
times ?" 

Then they hesitated. The chief sachem 
raised his hand for silence, and they all sank 
back in their seats as rigid and silent as 
though hewn out of stone. He beckoned to 
Jan to approach, and said : 

''Many moons ago we knew your father, and 
he was a brave warrior, and your mother the 
pale lily ; and you we have taught to hunt the 
bear with our own sons ; and never in your 



28 Jan : A Tale of 

blood have we found the liar. Tell us what 
your chief would* have us do ?" 

And then, upon Jan's representation, they 
went to the fort and made a treaty of peace 
with the Dutch. 

Jan never broke his vow, never to live 
with the Dutch at the fort again. For many 
years he lived in his cabin, and became one 
of the most famous trappers on the island. 
Late in life he married a Huguenot maiden, 
who died, leaving him one son, whom he 
called Hendrick. 

By the time Hendrick was grown and had 
married Heleche Poilion, New Amsterdam 
was under EngHsh rule. They made it a city 
and called it New York. Here, a few years 
before the Revolution, Hendrick and Hel 
eche had become householders; he was, like 
his father, a trapper and hunter, and for weeks 
would be away from his family, which con- 
sisted of two little girls and Janse, as the boy 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 29 

was called, after his grandfather, Jan Van 
Scoy, according to the custom of adding- to a 
name in each generation. 

Although New York was a city, it was not 
like a child's idea of a city. 



Ill 



JANSE. 




S^k HEN boys and girls ride in Broadway 
in an omnibus, and see as far as the 
eye can reach long rows of splendid 
buildings, and the street crowded with all 
sorts of vehicles, they forget it was not 
always so — that once it was just as much 
"country " as any village where they may go 
to spend their summer vacation. 

When Janse Van Scoy lived in New 
York the streets were unpaved roads, with 
grass fringing their si"des, where cows grazed 
through the summer days. 

Along the shore a few ships were loading 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 31 

or unloading- through the summer; but there 
was no bustle, as in these days. 

At the fi)Ot of Broadway a battery was 
built upon the rocks, near the fort and gov- 
ernment house, where the British army 
were quartered. A short distance from these 
was the *' Ferry House," a small frame house 
with an iron boat and oar over the door for a 
sign, where the few persons who wanted to> 
cross over the river to the litde village of 
Brooklyn waited for the row-boat to carry 
them over. Along the green bank of the. 
river, boys sat and fished undisturbed by 
steamboats, which were then unheard of. 
Janse lived in a litde brick house painted 
white, standing with gable end to the street, 
with a sloping thatched roof, projecting over 
the windows like eyebrows. These windows 
were made of diamond-s-haped panes of glass, 
set in frames of lead. 

The front door was on the side of the 



32 Jan: A Tale of 

house, and was divided through the centre; 
and when tlie good man of the house chose, 
he could close the under hah' of the door and 
rest his arm on the top and talk '• low Dutch " 
to his neighbors. But Janse's father was 
away hunting the bear, deer and all animals 
valuable for their furs, for a rich company, 
who sent them across the ocean. Conse- 
quently Janse was the ''man of the house" 
most of the time. 

One afternoon in August, he did not return 
home from the Dutch school at the usual 
time, but as he was a reliable boy, his mother 
was not alarmed about him. Gretchen, his 
sister, had watched for him all the afternoon. 
She wanted him to go with her in the woods 
back of the house, to gather blackberries to 
sell to the soldiers. She kept her face 
pressed close to the window, as long as she 
could see the road, and noticed and remarked 
to her mother that many of the farmers living 



The Early History of Brooklyn. ■^Z' 

out of town had gone by on horseback. 
Mrs. Van Scoy had been too much engaged 
in spinning on the great wheel in the corner, 
to notice the road ; but as twihght came 
on, she put up her work and stepped out of 
the back door for wood. 

She noticed Hans Hanson, the blacksmith, 
had covered over the great fire in his shop 
and left his unfinished work. She mounted 
the stairs to the garret, and lighted the lan- 
tern and hung it on a long pole out of the 
dormer window to light the street, as was 
the custom of all householders. 

Far down the bowerie she saw groups of 
persons standing together, and her heart 
misgave her, for the sound of fife and drum 
kept always before the people the thought of 
the oppressive troops and the possible rebel- 
lion of the colonists. 

Katharine, the youngest child, was lifted 
up on the high -post bedstead which stood in 
3 



34 y^^^ •' A Tale of 

the corner of the Hving room. This was 
piled half way to the ceiling with feather 
beds, with a deep curtain of blue and white 
chintz around the top, and a deep valance of 
the same around the bottom. 

At last Janse appeared, heated and excited 
with running, too full of news to take his 
bowl of milk and meal which Gretchen had 
put aside for him. 

The ship loaded with tea, which had been 
so anxiously looked for, had that day arrived. 
The " Liberty Boys," dressed as Mohawk 
Indians, were going on board that night to 
empty the chests of tea into the river. AU 
the people were going down to the wharf to 
see the fun, and he wanted to return. 

Mrs. Van Scoy gave her consent, and he 
quickly did up the chores ; which meant milk 
the cow and bring in wood from the block 
under the oak tree. 

There were no stoves in those days ; a 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 35 

wide, deep fire-place stretched all across one 
side of the room ; brass andirons held up the 
large back logs, under which light wood was 
placed to start the fire. The boys thought 
those fire-places hard on the ones who had 
to prepare the wood they consumed, but 
rather nice in winter, when they had been 
skating all the afternoon, to sit in the corner 
and get warmed through before going up in 
the cold garret to sleep. 

The next day, Saturday, there was no 
school ; business was suspended, church bells 
rung, guns fired, and all the inhabitants of 
the town assembled on the '' common," where 
the captain of the vessel in which the tea 
came over was introduced to the assemblage, 
the band playing in derision, '* God save the 
Queen." Then the entire populace escorted 
him to his ship, the *' Nancy," which quickly- 
sailed down the bay. 

Janse was in the thickest of the crowd. 



36 Jan : A Tale of 

After the excitement was over, he walked 
around the British camp, where he was quite 
a favorite with tlie soldiers. All the boys in 
town were well known to them, for they out 
of school hours brought clams and fish to camp 
and sold tiiem to the officers. 

This afternoon the soldiers were bitter in 
their denunciation of the inhabitants of the 
town, and predicted an early retribution ; 
for the king, they said, had ordered more 
troops to New York to conquer, in the begin- 
ning, the spirit of rebellion. 

Janse was only a boy of fourteen, but these 
stirring times made even boys thoughtful. 

This news made him walk quietly home ; 
even going through the stile, not jumping the 
fence as was his custom. 

The troops, when they came, were to be 
quartered upon the families in town. He 
knew his mother, being without a protector, 
would be compelled to be one of the first to 



The Early History of Broj/dyn. ^j 

support half a dozen men. This was serious 
business. Janse knew they had only enough 
Indian meal to last through the winter, and 
from the size of the pig in the sty there 
would be only pork for the four. Should he 
tell his mother? If his father was only at 
liome ! Then he remembered the morning 
his father left home, when he stood in the 
wood-shed polishing his gun, that his hist 
words to him were to shield and protect his 
mother. 

His father's sister, Aunt Phebe, lived on a 
farm on Long Island. He would go to her for 
advice in the morning. But all was forgot- 
ten when he entered the kitchen, and saw 
" Maniton," his father's trusted Indian mes- 
senger and friend, who belonged to the On- 
eida tribe, and came frequently to New York 
to exchange furs and maize for blankets and 
colored beads. As was his wont, Mr. Van 
Scoy had sent messages of love and greeting. 



38 Jan, 

and said that back in the forest they had 
heard rumors of the colonies uprising ; and if 
needed, he must join the ranks. 

This was sad news to Mrs. Van Scoy^ 
whose father had fought in the Indian wars. 
When Janse saw liow she was saddened, he 
resolved more firmly to keep evil tidings; 
from her as long as possible. Maniton slept 
on the garret floor ; he soon disappeared up 
the stairway, as the ladder was called. 

As it was Saturday, Janse had the floor 
of the living room to sweep and sprinkle 
with clean beach sand, which it was his 
pride to wave artistically. It was very 
nearly Sunday morning before he dropped 
asleep, after listening to Maniton's stories 
of battles and bear hunts, with which he 
always entertained him when they slept ia 
the garret together. 




IV. 




UNDAY morning the family attend- 
ed the Dutch Church, and as the 
second service was at one o'clock^ 
they ate their lunch of sausages and crullers 
between services in the church-yard, under 
the trees. 

After Janse had eaten his dinner of cold 
pork and vegetables (for no fire could be 
lighted on the Lord's Day), he strolled out in 
his Sunday clothes, which consisted of high 
boots, linen breeches to his knees, a round 
waistcoat, and blue outside coat, and flat 
broad-brimmed hat. 

He walked down the shady lane, and 
across fields white with buckwheat or waving 



40 Jan : A Tale of 

with grain, to the new EngHsh Church of 
St. Paul, out of town, on the bank of the 
Hudson River, which some of his mihtary 
friends had invited him to visil. He took a 
seat in the organ loft, and looked down on the 
strange meeting. The clergyman, in his 
white robe, streaked with the colors (jf the 
stained glass windows ; the radiance of the 
western sun lighting up the steps of the pul- 
pit ; the breeze swaying the leaves of the 
trees outside, and the font beneath him iilled 
with flowers rare and sweet, whose perfume 
floated up to him, forming part of the service 
of that afternoon. The music of the organ 
sounded soft and low through the church. 
The choir sang the "Gloria," "Thou that 
takest away the sins of the world have mercy 
upon us." Higher and higher arose the 
sweet voices, until Janse was filled with awe. 
He thought he must be very near the city 
that his mother read to him of out of the old 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 41 

iron-clasped Bible brought by his grandfather 
from France. It was a service he would 
never forget ; his French extraction made 
him appreciate it. 

Monday, Janse went down to the officer 
of the day and received a pass to leave the 
city. He then went to the market place, 
where the farmers from Long Island stood 
with their wagons of grain and vegetables 
for sale. He soon found one of his Uncle 
Seaman's neigiibors, who would return home 
that afternoon. Janse met him at noon at 
the old '' Inn." On the long wooden stoop 
farmers were sitting after their dinner. 
Overhead, suspended from an apple tree in 
front of the house, was the sign — a brilliant 
picture of King George. 

Janse climbed into the wagon and went over 
the river to Brooklyn in a sloop; row-boats 
only carrying foot passengers. 

All the way up, as they passed little cabins 



42 Jan : A Tale of 

by the road side, anxious women came out to> 
inquire the latest news. Not one flinched 
in their determination to stand firm, at what- 
ever cost, in their resistance to oppression. 

Janse dropped asleep to the sound of the 
crickets, only to awaken at Uncle Seaman's 
door. Aunt Phebe brought him a bowl of warm 
milk and brown bread ; then left him to finish 
his nap on the broad ''settle" in the kitchen,, 
until the household had retired for the night ; 
when closing doors and windows, they lis- 
tened to his earnest words, and decided to send 
down the large wagon and bring them all up 
to the farm without explaining tlie reason. 
Uncle Seaman was a Quaker, and connected 
with General Howe's family ; consequently he 
was free from British molestation. 

Mrs. Van Scoy was shocked and alarmed 
next day, when Uncle Seaman and Janse 
arrived with the wagon. She, with many 
others, hoped again^^t hope ; although all 



The Early History of Brooklyn, 43 

events pointed to a rebellion against the 
mother country. The simple folk thought 
something would occur to prevent it ; so 
she left her home as for a visit, thinking 
in a few weeks to return, but very glad of the 
shelter and protection of Uncle Seaman's 
influence. 

The morning after their arrival at the farm 
Janse and Gretchen went to the cabin they 
were to occupy, swept out the dead leaves, 
hung the door with straps of leather for 
hinges, put up the " slapbank," which looked 
like a cupboard with closed doors, through 
the day, and was lowered at night for a bed. 
Janse slept in the garret. The long-handled 
warming-pan, filled with lighted wood, he 
thought would make his bed very comforta- 
ble, if the cracks between the logs in the 
roof did let the snow in. 

All the autumn there were mutterings of 
discontent ; but as yet there were no decided 



44 7^^^ ' ^ Ta^e of 

steps taken ; only the sense of wrong was 
deepening, and preparations were being made 
for the inevitable result 

Janse and Gretchen roamed the woods, 
bringing home baskets of black walnuts and 
hickory nuts, to store in a corner of the gar- 
ret, where, upon stormy days, they sat with a 
iDasket of apples before them to be pared, cut 
in slices, and strung on long cords suspended 
from the rafters to dry for winter use. Janse 
aised to, in the long days when their mother 
was busy at the farm-house, lake his rifle 
•and shoot game for Gretchen to cook. 

Janse was short and stout, a regular Hol- 
lander ; but Gretchen was tall and slim, the 
French blood of her motlier's family predomin- 
ating in lier. In the bottom of a heavily bound 
chest was a miniature of their great grand- 
mother, a Huguenot exile, who had fled from 
France to Staten Island for religious liberty. 
Often when their mother returned from Aunt 



The EaiHy History of Brooklyn. 45 

Phebe's, and Katharine was asleep, they 
would sit in the fire-light and listen to her 
stories of her grandfather's flight from Paris, 
that sad St. Bartholomew's eve, until they 
could almost hear the great bell ring out the 
signal for the midnight massacre. It grew 
with their life, until it became part of their 
daily thoughts — the sublime idea of personal 
sacrifice for principle. 

When the snow barricaded their door, and 
for several days prevented their mother 
returning to them or their leaving the 
house, they would remind each other of the 
crowded vessel their grandfather came over 
in. 

All through the spring of '76, the colonists 
were preparing to cut loose from the British 
government. General Washington had been 
made Commander-in-chief of the army, and 
had possession of New York. Congress was 
sitting in the State House at Philadelphia, 



46 Jan. 

where on the fourth of July, the Declaration 
of Independence was signed. 

Janse's father had joined the army, and 
was stationed somewhere in the vicinity of 
New York ; but as they had not heard directly 
from him, they knew not the regiment to 
which he was attached. 




NE day, when Janse was working in 
the field, he saw a horseman ride 
rapidly along the road and dismount 
at the store. 

In those exciting days all thought was cen- 
tered on the army. Janse, knowing how 
anxious his mother was for news, quickly 
wended his way to the spot, where all the 
men in the place were in a short space of 
time congregated. The soldier, who was a 
messenger sent from Brooklyn, quickly ex- 
plained his errand. The enemy had landed 
on Long Island, ten thousand strong, and all 
men capable of doing military duty were to 



48 7c7;// A Tale of 

report immediately to the Continental Army 
at Brooklyn. 

Janse ran home that sultry afternoon to 
bee his mother to let him eo and look for his 
father. He was too young to be regularly 
enrolled, but Mrs. Van Scoy consented to his 
going as a drummer-bcn^ 

Around the " tavern " all the villaoers were 
assembled when Janse rejoined the throng. 
The men marched down the road, led by the 
drum beaten so lustily by Janse, leaving the 
tearful, sorrowful women behind them, who 
kept up bravely until the turn of the road 
hid the men from sight ; when they returned 
to their homes in the late afternoon, to go 
themselves to the pasture and drive home 
the cattle, and prepare to gather in the har- 
vest ripened in the fields. 

The sun went before the company of men 
as they marched westward. At almost every 
farm one or more joined them, carrying the 



The Ear I J History of Brooklyn. 49^ 

guns their fathers or grandfathers had used in 
the Indian wars. At twiHght they stopped at 
a low stone house for the man who was to 
lead them into Brooklyn. Their hostess took, 
them into the kitchen, and placed before, 
them rye bread, boiled beef and cabbage ;. 
but the men were too excited to eat. As for 
Janse, the march had been a perfect delight 
to him. 

The unusual sound of fife and drum awoke 
the echoes in the hills and valleys they crossed. 
The deer and squirrel bounded before them 
as they passed stone fences covered with wild 
vines. Ofttimes he would forget, and stop 
to gather the wild grapes hanging before 
him ; but no, behind him came the steady 
tramp of determined men — he must keep 
drumming on. It was midnight when they 
reached Jamaica, where they were to halt. 
Tired and footsore, they lay down on the clean 
hay in the barn, where, notwithstanding 
4 



50 Jan : A Tale of 

the increased excitement, Janse sank to 
sleep. 

All night farmers arrived from the sur- 
rounding country. Whig families came in 
from Brooklyn with all their possessions, 
feather beds, Dutch dresses, and babies all 
huddled together. Officers were coming and 
going with orders from General Sullivan. 
By daylight the word of march was given. 
A motley crowd — gray-haired men and mere 
istriplings, marched side by side, each dressed 
in his farm clothes, buckskin trousers and 
striped shirt. A range of hills stretched 
along back of Brooklyn. Between each 
range a roadway led through the passes. 
Unfortunately, the regiment which had been 
placed at the passes to guard the breastworks 
had been withdrawn, leaving them exposed 
to the enemy. Just as Janse's company 
reached the army, they were ordered 
directly down to the river pass, on the 



The Eajdy History of Brooklyn. 51 

ground now occupied by Gret-nwood Ceme- 
tery. 

The battle had commenced. In the thick- 
est of the fight, Janse's drum was heard 
cheering his men on. Before them was the 
trained rank and file of the British army. 
Company after company were driven back into 
the shadow of the hills. They had either to 
surrender or cut their way through the Brit- 
ish soldiery. This seemed impossible. The 
main body of the army withdrew as best they 
could. They would rather sink in the 
meadow around them than surrender. Five 
times, four hundred Marylanders charged 
upon the British, covering their friends' re- 
treat. Each time they were repulsed, until 
they were obliged to submit and be taken 
prisoners. 

Janse had fallen where the first stand was 
made. Slowly, late in the afternoon, he 
opened his eyes. All around him was quiet, 



52 Jan : A Tale of 

only the quail telling- its mate, " Wheat's, 
ripe." The corn waved and sang its requiem 
ovel- the dead beyond it, where ihe battle had 
been fought. The wild flowers, pressed by 
the tramp of many feet, still breathed per- 
fumes from their crushed hearts. 

Janse was lying alone — only a boy — and 
the world so bright before him. If he had 
only found his father he would have been* 
content. He raised his head and saw the 
sun sinking into the waters of the bay. Was. 
his life going down with it? "O mother, 
mother, in the land beyond the sea, shall I 
meet you again ?" 

Beyond the band was playing — the music 
in the distance, sounding as soft and sweet to 
him as it did that Sunday afternoon in the 
English Church in New York, which ap- 
peared as a vision before him. The perfume 
of the flowers, and the music, brought it all 
back to him. And the words the choir sang, 



The Early History of Brooklyn. ^^ 

^' Thou that takest away the sins of the world, 
liave mercy upon us." With these words upon 
his hps he sank back and was gone. 

Just then the party which had been sent 
out to reconnoitre for the wounded, came 
througli the field, and seeing the boy, so 
young and fair, with one arm shattered, 
picked him up in their strong arms and car- 
ried him into camp, intending to send his 
body back to his mother, or at least give him 
a decent burial; but they found his iieart still 
beating, and gave him into the hands of the 
surgeon, who had only time to give him stim- 
ulants as he liurried through the rooms of the 
''Old Cortelyou House" they had converted 
^into a hospital. There Janse, lulled by opi- 
ates, dozed through the night and next day, 
scarcely noticing the surroundings, until the 
order came to remove the wounded nearer 
the East River. 

O the torture of that ride in the farmer's 



54 y^^^ •■ ^ Tale of 

wagon, over the rough road ! Janse soon 
fainted with pain, and remained unconscious 
until dark, when the fine mist falHng on his 
face revived him. Gradually the moisture 
penetrated to his inflamed limb, making it 
feel more comfortable. They were at the: 
ferry, preparing to embark on the long row- 
boats waiting to carry them over. General 
Washington had been in camp and hospital 
all day. Now he was in the saddle superin- 
tending the removal from the ferry stairs^ 
the present Fulton Ferry. Patiently all 
night the General waited through the rain,, 
as the tired boatmen rowed back and forth 
across the river. 

The British camp was wrapped in slumber,, 
secure in their victory ; but when daylight 
appeared, imagine their surprise to see the 
whole Continental army safely landed on the 
New York shore. 

Janse was quartered with a family living 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 55 

on the shore road. Kind hands ministered 
unto him, the women of the house nursing- 
him, and trying to soothe his home-sickness. 
He was soon able to walk around. Uncle 
Seaman procured him a pass to go around 
the town. The American army had retreated 
into Westchester, and the British had pos-- 
session of New York. 

As soon as he was able, he visited his old 
home. Opposite the house a narrow bridge 
crossed the little river, which ran before the 
door where he had often sat and fished. The 
unfinished boats were still upon the stocks 
before the closed boat-house. He stopped 
to take a drink out of the old bucket in the 
well. l^p the dusty road was neighbor 
Smith's house and barn ; beyond stood De 
Witt's windmill, its long arms revolving with 
the wind. Before it stood a long wagon^ 
loaded with bags of grain for the army. He 
wondered if he should ever live there again. 



56 Jan: A Tale of 

for he was to leave next day for home ; he 
could hardly sleep that night for anticipation. 
Very glad was he to get home and rest 
upon his own garret bed. Every day the 
neighbors came in to see him and talk over 
the battle. Five of the men who left the 
village with him had never returned from 
that hill-[)as-, and Janse resolved as soon as 
he was perfectly well he would search the 
battle-field for some token of the lost ones, 
particularly of his father, that his mother's 
mind might be relieved of the suspense which 
was wearing her life out. She was most of 
the time at Uncle Seaman's with Gretchen 
and Katharine. Gretchen was as a daughter 
in the house, Uncle Seaman takino- as much 

o 

pride in her and indulging her as far as his 
Quaker principles would allow him. Having 
no children of his own, he had made his will 
in favor of Mrs. Van Scoy's children. 

The house he lived in, the " Big House," 



The Early Histo7'y of Brooklyn. 57 

•was half a mile from the cabin ; a two-story 
double house, with four windows each side 
of the front door, with a broad veranda 
across the front. The hall through the cen- 
tre was as wide as an oreHnary house. On one 
side was the living rooms and kitchen, on the 
other, the best room gloried in an oriental 
rug spread upon its oiled flDor. with heavy 
mahogany furniture, and a looking-glass 
with black and gilt frame, surmounted with a 
gilded eagle. 

Aunt Norchie was too good a house- 
keeper to have the negroes under her feet in 
the house ; only old Dinah and her reliable 
daughter had |)ermanent possession there ; 
the rest of the tribe lived in white- washed 
•cabins back of the house. In Uncle Sea- 
man's desk was safely locked the freedom 
papers of all the negroes on the place. He, 
as a Quaker, could not keep any human 
being in bondage, but they lived on the 



58 Jan: A Tale of 

place the same as before he bought it, and 
they with it. 

** Janse, thee will have to take the milk to 
friend Jones* this afternoon," said Aunt 
Phebe, one afternoon, when he had been 
home a few weeks. 

•'All right!" And he took the ketde of 
milk and started to go a couple of miles out 
of the village. He walked along, careful of 
the milk, and thinking of the conversation 
they had in the barn that afternoon. Caesar 
and Dinah had been telling the children of 
witches, as they sat upon the barn floor husk- 
ing corn, until the wool had almost straight- 
ened upon Sam and Dan's black heads ; they 
believed everything ''Mammy" said. That 
Jennie, the cow, had been bewitched in the 
summer, when the supply of milk had failed. 
In fact everything was regulated by surround- 
ing witches. 

Gretchen's black eyes had snapped ia 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 59 

scorn, but while Janse had laughed with her, 
in his secret soul there was a little uneasi- 
ness, for in their household, Uncle Seaman's 
grandmother's name was never mentioned 
but with sadness, for she had been burned as 
a witch in Boston. He thought, after all, 
there might be some truth in Dinah's stories. 
'' Well, good-night, Janse," said Israel 
Jones. "We'll have an early moon to-night,'^ 
as Janse at last picked up his empty pail and 
turned his face homeward ; he had been so 
interested in Israel's arrangements for a deer 
hunt, that he had not noticed how late it was. 
He whistled through, one piece of woods 
until he came to the big walnut tree, stand- 
ing alone on the shore of the lake ; this he 
stopped to shake until he had filled his pock- 
ets with nuts, transferring a great piece of 
warm molasses cake to the kettle. He didn't 
feel hungry just then ; he took it from Mrs. 
Jones more to please her than anything else. 



6o Jan : A Tale of 

While he stood there he heard some one 
singing, "As pants the heart for cooHng 
streams — cooHngr streams — cooHncr streams." 
He knew at once who it was — Crazy Jack ; 
but he was perfectly harmless, roaming the 
country at will, although he had a good home 
in the village. 

" Good evening, sir," said Janse, in his most 
•respectful manner. 

*' Good evening, Janse; been nutting?" 

*' Yes, sir ; have some ?" 

" Guess not." And lie passed along, still 
■singing, '' Cooling streams." 

Janse thought he had better hurry home. 
It was already twilight, as he walked fast 
along the shore, and entered another wood 
lot. After that came the bridge, and the 
orchard, and then he would be at home. He 
had gone a quarter of a mile through the 
woods, when he thoupht he heard a rustling 
in the bushes. There were plenty of wild- 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 6i 

cats and wolves in tlie woods, but they 
seldom came near the road. He listened, and 
distinctly b.eard steps behind him. His heart, 
stood still ; he hstened again, and all was. 
quiet ; he tried to whistle, but his voice died 
away, for a^am he heard a rustling sound. It 
must be the witches ! He started and ran as. 
fast as his weakness permitted ; the lid of the 
kettle flew off and clattered behind him. At 
last he stopped to rest — he was so weak — 
when he heard some one calling '* Midnight !"" 
And as it was a human voice, his courage 
returned, for he knew it must be a friend who 
knew one of the passwords of the American 
army. 

He hesitated ; what should he do ? Go 
home, or go back through that dreadful 
woods, he had filled with imagmary hob-gob- 
lins ? How Gretchen would despise him, if 
she knew he had thought a ghost was after 
him 1 He slowly retraced his steps, peering 



62 Jan : A Tale of 

into the gathering' darkness, when he heard 
a voice repeat again, ** Midnight !" 

'' Yes, and darkness," repHed Janse. 

" Is that Janse Van Scoy ?" 

'' Yes." 

Immediately Janse was reheved to feel his 
hand grasped by another strong one, made 
of flesh and blood, as a tall man, wrapped in 
a long cape, stepped out of the woods. 

'' I have been waiting for you all day. I 
have a message for your Uncle Seaman. Is 
it safe to talk here, Janse ?" 

'* I don't know; but it is safe in the bear cave 
on the hill. No one goes there but us boys." 

" Well, lead the way. I must find a place 
of safety." 

It was now quite dark, but Janse knew 
every step of the way ; the man followed, and 
Janse, taking him by the hand, led him into 
the mouth of the cave, where bears had once 
been shot. 



The Early History of Brooklyn, 62^ 

*' Have you come far ?" asked Janse. 

'' Yes, and I have been in the woods all 
day." 

''Then you must be hungry, sir?" 

" Yes ; but I am content to bear all hard- 
ships if I can accomplish my mission." 

Janse thought, before any more was said, 
he had better get out his gingerbread and 
nuts, which he was made happy by seeing 
this gentleman eat. Then crouching close 
together, on the bottom of the cave, they 
soon understood each other. Janse loved, 
from the moment he saw the moonlight upon 
it, the face of Nathan Hale, so strong and 
sweet. It aroused all the ardor in Janse's 
soul to look into those deep earnest eyes, as 
they kindled with the story of his country's 
wrongs, and grew humid when he spoke of 
General Washington's confidence in him, in 
selecting him to come to Long Island to find 
out the strength of the British army. He 



64 7'-^^^ ' ^'^ Talc cf 

had received his instructions frcm the Gen- 
eral at the iiouse of Robert Murray, a Qua- 
ker in New York, who had told him lie- 
would find a friend in Joshua Seaman. 

But while he spoke of the honor of doing" 
this, he did not mention that in volunteering 
for this secret mission, lie was hazarding his 
life. He did not appear to think of himself, 
only of his countr)', and how he might best 
serve her. Janse could not stay any longer ; 
his long absence might arouse suspicion. He 
promised to return as soon as possible, and 
hastened home. 

''Thee is late, Janse," said Aunt Phebe, 
when he reached home ; '' the table is cleared,, 
but Dinah will find thee something." 

He had no doubt on that score. The lar- 
der was always filled to overflowing. 

*' I'se awful glad to see you again, Massa 
Janse ; thought for sure the spookes had yer ;; 
jist the niglit they ride on broomsticks." 



The Early History of Brookly^i. 6$ 

*' O come, Dinah, I can run as fast as 
spookes ; give me something — a whole pie ; 
I'm as hunerv as a coon." 

He cut a small piece out and sHpped the 
rest under the lounge, while Dinah's back 
was turned. 

*' Come now give me some cheese." 

" 'Clar to man, Massa Janse, 1 neber seed 
such eatin' in all my born days ! Hull pie 
gone jist while I was fixin' Massa's flip.'* 

'' Better give me some bread, then." 

But Dinah had gone into the hall, mutter- 
ing, " Sure 'nuff, the witches have got him ; 
he's witched, for sure." 

Janse cracked nuts all the evening, sitting 
in the chimney corner listening to Uncle Sea- 
man's dignified attempts to teach the colored 
twins to read ; while they kept one eye on 
Massa, and one on Janse, who occasionally 
threw them a nut. But all the time his mind 
was with Nathan Hale, in the cave on the 
5 



66 Jlui : A Tale of 

hill-side. He thought the evening would 
never go ; but that, like all things, came to an 
end. The servants were called in, Uncle Sea- 
man had prayers, and the fire was covered 
up, the lamps put out, and the house was 
quiet. 

Janse retired to bis own room, threw him- 
self on the bed without removing his clothes, 
but only to listen for the last sound to die out 
of the house. Then he crept down to the 
broad staircase, with his shoes in his hand, to 
Uncle Seaman's private room, where he gen- 
erally sat for an hour or two after the rest 
had retired, arranging his business for the 
next day. 

He heard with deep sympathy, Janse's 
.story, and sat a moment in profound thought. 
He read the letter from General Washington, 
asking him to befriend Captain Nathan Hale, 
who was on secret service. 

"Janse," he said, **he must not stay there 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 6^ 

until morning — it is not safe. But thee can- 
not go again. Thee is not able ; I will go 
myself, and thee stay here until I return." 

** But, uncle, you cannot go ; it is steep 
climbing, that hill." 

'' Dost thee think thy old uncle too stiff, 
Janse, to climb the hills I was brought up 
in?" 

'' I can go, uncle. I am not tired." 

*' Nay, nay, Janse, sit thee down quietly 
in my arm-chair, and wait until I return, and 
when I tap on the window, open it." 

Janse extinguished the candle, and opened 
the window, out of which Uncle Seaman 
stepped on the lawn. Then burying his head 
in his arms upon the table, he watched and 
waited, listening to the tall clock in the hall. 
When it chimed the second quarter, a slight 
step was perceptible outside ; then the tap on 
the window, and Janse opened it to admit 
Uncle Seaman and Captain Hale. Then clos- 



68 Ja7i : A Tale of 

ing the wooden shutters and relighting the 
candle, he departed for food and drink for 
their visitor. 

After Captain Hale had been refreshed and 
strengthened with sufficient food, he unfolded 
his plans to Friend Seaman. That scene 
Janse never forgot. That small room, with 
low dark rafters overhead, the blue painted 
doors and window, the old chest of drawers 
with brass rings and knobs, with a desk top 
before, where Uncle Seaman sat, with his 
eyes fixed upon the paper before him, upon 
which Captain Hale was tracing his route of 
return to Huntington, where he was to take a 
sloop to go down the East River to the 
American headquarters. 

He had been successful in obtaining all the 
information desired, and now, elated, was re- 
turning full of enthusiasm and zeal. They 
were a marked contrast. Uncle Seaman's, 
calm pale face, made even more so by the 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 69 

straight drab coat buttoned to the throat. 
Captain Hale wore a butternut colored cloth 
suit, with a ruffled shirt bosom, his hair pow- 
dered and tied in a queue down his back, 
his cheeks flushed with excitement ; a grand 
type of manhood, Janse thought, as he knelt 
■on the bags of seed close by Uncle Seaman, 
and rested ; in his way as much interested as 
they, for he knew the cuts through the 
hills better than either. It was e-irly morn- 
ing before they separated. Janse tdking Cap- 
tain Hale to his room until Uncle Seaman 
could decide what was best to do. 



VI. 




HE next day Janse was too ill to 
come down to breakfast. Aunt 
Phebe brought his breakfast to his 
room, the quantity of which only confirmed 
Dinah in her conviction of his being be- 
witched. Through the day enough was smug- 
gled into the room to keep one person a 
week. It was thought best for Janse to 
remain in bed the next day also, which was 
Saturday. 

Sunday morning the long wagon painted 
drab, w^as brought out by Janse, the bottom 
filled with straw and robes. Mrs. Van Scoy 
and Aunt Phebe sat on the back seat. Un- 
cle Seaman and Janse in front. As soon as 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 71 

they were out of sight of the servants, the fur 
robes were removed from the bottom of the 
wagon, and disclosed Captain Hale, extended 
the whole length of the wagon. The cover- 
ing ^ was again placed over him, as they 
approached the meeting house and met 
Friends coming from different directions. 

The men sat one side of the building, the 
women the otlier. The walls were white- 
washed, the windows without blinds. On a. 
raised pine platform sat the speakers, chief 
among whom was Uncle Seaman. Janse sat 
by a window where he could keep his eye 
upon the wagon. It was what they called 
*' Silent Meeting." Grave and motionless sat 
the men in drab, with broad brimmed hats on 
their heaJs. Grave and motionless sat the 
women, in drab, with close drab bonnets upon 
their heads — only the singing of the birds^ 
and buzzing of the bees outside, praising God 
in that still air. The Spirit did not move any 



72 Jan: A Talc of 

of the Friends to speak through the long 
inorning, until noon, when one Friend turning 
to another, they all through the room began 
to shake hands, and then the meeting was 
over. 

Janse brouglit the wagon ujd to the door, but 
the rest had decided to remain at a Friend's 
house, where a celebrated P>iend who had *' a 
concern to testify," would speak in the after- 
noon. 

Uncle Seaman said Janse had better drive 
home for Caesar, and proceed from thence to 
New York for a load of salt. Janse's arm 
was still too weak to allow him to drive any 
distance. This occasioned no surprise, for 
frequently the Quakers went to meeting in 
the morning, and in the field to work in 
the afternoon. Janse drove home and 
found Caesar, who drove a mile down the 
road to where another joined it, and then, 
as he was let into the secret, turned up 



The Early History of B7'ooJdy7i. J2> 

the new road along the shore, and went five 
miles east ; C iptain Hale, sitting on the seat 
with Janse, telHng him stories of his own 
boyhood and farm life, for he was brought up 
on a farm in Coimecticut, until he went to 
College. There Captain Hale left them to 
o-o into t'le woods until nigflit allowed him to 
wait upon the shore at Huntington for the 
sloop which was to take him to New York. 

It was late in the afternoon when they 
■drove into Peter Remson's yard at Brookl\n, 
but Janse was soon at home, smoking his 
pipe and talking low Dutch. Early the next 
morninof he went over to the city, with his 
pass in his pocket, that he might go in and 
out among the British soldiers and pick up 
bits of news, and learn wliether a sloop had 
^one up the Hudson River. He was anx- 
ious to know if the sloop which had left Hun- 
tington with Captain Hale had arrived, as 
they had a fair wind through the night. 



74 Jf-'^^i^ ' ^ Tale of 

Not that one had arrived, but alas ! 
another — a British vessel lying- at Huntington 
the night before, sent a small boat to the 
land, and Captain Hale, thinking it was the 
one in quest of him, hailed it, and was taken 
on board only to find out his fatal mistake. 
He was searched. The charts and papers 
found upon him disclosed all. He was 
brought directly to New York, and given in 
charge of the Provost, the cruel, inhuman 
Cunningham, who had placed him under 
guard, in the green house, on the very 
ground where he had received his directions 
from General Washington, wlio had left the 
city almost directly after — the British General 
occupying the Murray mansion, on what is 
now called Murray Hill. 

This Janse learned from the British sol- 
diers. His knees smote together. He forgot 
all about Caesar and the salt. He only 
thought of going to Captain Hale. He knew 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 75 

where the place was ; but he dare not be seen 
around in tlie dayhght ; he must wait until 
dark. He sauntered around the city, watch- 
ing the boys fish in the Collect. 

In the twihght Janse reconnoitered the 
grounds. He found a soldier patrolling the 
front of the green house, but nothing in the 
rear, where close by a window grew a large 
beech tree. Janse clambered up in that, the 
thick foHage hiding him in the gathering 
darkness. 

" Captain Hale," he said, in a low, distinct 
"whisper. 

"• Janse, can it be you here ?" 

'' Yes, sir." 

" You have done me the greatest and last 
kindness you ever can, Janse. It does not 
seem so hard now that I have one friend by 
me. Cunningham will not allow me a can- 
dle, or paper, or ink." 

'' I have a piece of paper and a pencil.'*^ 



^6 Jan : A Tale of 

By the light of the full moon Janse threw 
them into the room, and there, by the light of 
that harvest moon, Nathan Hale wrote his 
last message to his friends, quietly sleeping 
far away in their home in the Connecticut 
Valley. Then reaching his hand out the 
window, he gave the message to Jan, who 
promised to deliver it himself He was 
ready to promise anything that could comfort 
his friend, who stood looking out on the 
-quiet lovely view before him — the hay 
ricks, standing like sentinels in the field ; 
the moonlight so bright that everything was 
distinctly visible — even the apples glistened 
on the trees. The warm breeze swayed 
the honeysuckle which covered the garden 
house — the myriad stars above in the sky 
so clear. He looked at the stars ; then 
sinking on his knees at the window he buried 
his face in his hands. Janse's heart was bro- 
ken with grief for his friend, and his tears 



The Early History of Brooklyn 77- 

fell like rain on the leaves around him. A 
great sob broke from him, when Captaia 
Hale said : 

*' Janse." 

-Sir!" 

" It must be nearly morning ; you must gc 
now." 

*' 1 can t go. 

** I wan't you to. It will not be long now.. 
The sunrise wall soon be here ; already there 
are light streaks in the east." 

** I cannot leave you ;" and Janse held on 
convulsively to the hand stretched out to 
him. He could not speak, as Captain Hale 
said musingly, '' You will see the old school- 
house. Tell my mother I died loving her, 
and to send the message of my death across 
the mountains to the litde brown cottage. 
Janse, you must go. I must do my part 
bravely, and you, yours. We wilh meet 
again one day." 



yS Jan : A Tale of 

'' Good-bye." 

Janse hid himself until the guard of sol 
diers arrived, with the portly Cunningham, 
brilliant in gold trimmings, who refused 
Nathan Hale's last request for a clergymen, 
and ordered him to march down to Rutgers 
orchard, now East Broadway. Firmly and 
erect he looked the insolent minion calmly in 
the face, and replied to his taunts : 

*' I regret I have but one life to give to my 
country." 

Firmly he walked, until they reached the 
apple tree from which a rope was suspended. 
Janse had a full view of that pale, heroic 
man, with his eyes fixed on the light 
which illumined his face, until he could 
look no more, but throwing himself down on 
the grass he shook with uncontrollable sobs. 
He heard Cunningham's voice giving orders. 
Then a silence. 

The soldiers and populace soon moved, 



The Early History of Brookly^i. 79 

but Janse dared not raise his head until all 
had departed, and only the sound of apples 
dropping around him proved that he was 
alone. Then he went and stood by the hastily 
covered grave, and felt as if his heart must 
burst. It was his first grief, and his strong, 
though young nature, felt it more acutely 
than an older and more disciplined one would. 

Then slowly walking down town, he 
reached the ferry, which he crossed. His 
shoulders pained him extremely ; he was fev~ 
erish and exhausted with his long night 
watch in the open air ; but he could not rest. 
The paper carefully pinned inside his shirt 
bosom impelled him onward. He took pas- 
^sage on a sloop across the Sound, and then 
walked the rest of the way to Coventry, 
stopping at the log houses he passed for 
food, which was gladly given him in return 
for the information he imparted. 

Sunday morning he reached the village 



8o Jan : A Tale of 

The quietness In the houses he passed, and 
the Hne of horses in the church yard, showed 
him that the whole village was at meeting. 
Tired and footsore he walked the dusty road ; 
then sitting down beneath a tree, he waited 
for the congregation to return to their homes. 
He watched the brook softly trickling over 
the stones, just washing the rushes by its 
side, then flowing down to the mill whose 
wheel it turned. Slowly and decorously the 
people came out of the "meeting house." 
Women, with a. few old men. One tall, thin 
man came up to Janse, and said : 

" Do you know this is the Sabbath day ?" 
" Yes, sir," replied Janse, looking up with 
astonishment. There was no question about 
it in his mind ; every latch-string was drawn 
in, and every child, even, in meeting. • The 
way the boys walked down the road two by 
two, never turning their heads even to look at 
Janse who stood in their path ; the very birds 



The Early History of Brookly7i. 82 

in a New England town appeared to keep 
the Sabbath day. 

*' Do 3'ou not know that it is not lawful to 
travel on the Sabbath day ? Have you no 
abiding place ?" 

*' Yes, sir; but I want to find Mrs. Hale." 

" What do you want her for ? She has 
just gone home from the meeting." 

** I want to tell her that her son is dead," 
and Janse's voice shook. 

'' What, Captain Nathan Hale killed in 
batde !" 

'* No, sir ;" and here Janse broke down, and 
fainted from hunger and exhaustion. Quickly 
his questioner picked him up, and carried 
him over to Mrs. Hale's, which fortunately 
was near. 

They laid him on the high-post bedstead, 
and gave him rum and sugar to revive him, 
then left him to sleep until the sun went down, 
and the Sabbath day in Connecticut was fin- 



82 Jan: A Tale of 

ished. The neighbors came In and prepared 
the evening meal. Mrs. Hale and her 
daughters were not allowed to assist ; they 
sat weeping in the best room. 

Then all sat quietly around the room 
until the minister came in, dressed in black, 
his hair powdered and tied in a queue down 
liis back. For a few moments there was per- 
fect silence, and then, at a motion from the 
minister, they dropped upon their knees, and 
joined in thought with his words. " Lord, 
Thou hast been our refuge in all generations." 
Then rising to their seats, Janse, amid the 
sobs of the women, told all he knew of Na- 
than Hale's capture and death. Then the 
minister read his last letter aloud. 

After the first grief was spent, the usual 
<iuietness and resignation was restored. Not 
one of those women, but had sent one loved 
one at least to the army. Any day they 
anight hear the same tidings of their death, 



The Early History of Brooklyn. ^^2) 

but they had no wish to recall them. Too 
much was at stake. Their children and their 
homes, the farms their fathers had redeemed 
from the wilderness — all — all called upon 
them to be brave. 

That stricken household was very kind to 
Janse — putting him in ''Brother Nathan's" 
room to sleep. For several days he was so 
weak and ill, he could only wander around 
the farm, and sleep in the hay in the barn. 
They wanted him to spend some weeks with 
them, but he wanted to go home to his mo- 
ther. His nervous system was completely ex- 
hausted. His nights were disturbed by dreams 
of that terrible scene in Rutger's orchard. 

They let him depart with blessings and 
tears, riding on their old white horse, at- 
tended by a neighbor's boy, who was to 
bring the horse back ; when Janse took the 
boat for Long Island, and the next day 
reached home. 



VII. 




N November was the annual sacrifice 
of swine in the barn-yard. In the 
'' out kitchen," immense iron pots 
of head- cheese, meat and lard, hung over 
the fire. In the great store-room were hung 
long links of sausage and hams. One upper 
room was filled to the ceiHng with wool and 
flax to be carded, spun and wove inta 
blankets and cloth for winter use. 

They must have expected a very severe 
winter, from the quantity of blankets made 
and rolls of cloth dyed butternut and blue for 
men's wear, locked up in the closet. Uncle 
Seaman's best suit of clothes was drab broad- 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 85 

cloth, and cloak of camlet. Aunt Phebe's best 
cloak and hat were of black satin. 

It was an Indian summer afternoon. Over 
the hills the cows were coming home, driven 
ty black Sam. The chickens were quietly 
going to roost in the trees. Carlo was 
asleep in the sun. Aunt Phebe had driven 
over to see a sick friend. The men with the 
children, both black and wiiite, were down in 
the far orchard gathering the late apples. 
The house was alone. On the dresser in the 
kitchen were the fresh loaves of wheat and 
rye bread, rows of pumpkin and apple pies, 
and great piles of doughnuts and crul- 
lers. 

^ The floor was scoured white. Through 
the open door the old oak threw an occa- 
sional leaf with its shadows. On a hook in 
the deep, broad fireplace hung the copper 
tea kettle, singing away, and bright enough 
for Dinah to see her face in. The hour-glass 



86 Jan: A Tale of 

stood on the shelf with its sands slowly but 
steadily running through. 

Janse came up from the orchard with a 
load of red and green fruit, and climbed up 
on the top of the cider house to arrange a 
place for them, when his notice was attracted 
by an unusual sight on the Sound. A large 
vessel was at anchor, and landing a number 
of men. He soon distinguished the greea 
coat faced with red, and the red and drab cap 
of the Hessians, the terror of the country. 
His first impulse was to warn his uncle ; but 
he could not run ; he was too weak, and the 
enemy were steadily marching up the road. 

He went in at the back door of the house,, 
and ran up to the corner room where the sil- 
ver pint mug and spoons were kept, and 
buried them under the feather beds ; thea 
walked to the front gate as the soldiers ap- 
proached the house. Already one of them 
had driven the cows out of the yard, while 



The Early History of Brooklyn, 87 

another had mounted the load of apples Janse 
had left standing. When he said that his. 
uncle was a Quaker, and under British pro- 
tection, they laughed at him. 

He took down the tin horn, used to calK 
the men in to dinner from the fields, and 
blew a blast which could be heard a mile 
away. In a few minutes Uncle Seaman 
appeared with his wagon load of assistants, 
and satisfied the commanding officer that his. 
house was neutral ground, ynd invited them, 
to dine with him. 

Aunt Norchie returned, and Janse went, 
for his mother, for Dinah could not be left., 
alone in the kitchen. The sight of a "green; 
coat " in the door or at the well, filled her 
with dismay. Turkeys and chickens were- 
prepared by her for roasting in the brick, 
oven. Uncle Seaman was lavish in his hos- 
pitality, for he knew they dared not plunder 
his barn or house as they would his less in- 



SS Jan: A Tale of 

fluential neighbors, whom he wished to 
spare. 

The long table was laid in the hall with 
queensvvare and pew^ter. Dozens of wine 
were brought out of the cellar. A hogshead 
of shad, salted down for winter use, was pre- 
pared, and in the woods oxen were killed and 
roasted whole for the common soldiers, who 
helped themselves to the cider aheady made. 
By midnight all w^ere satisfied and ready to 
begin their march to the place of encamp- 
ment, five miles beyond, where they were to 
remain all winter. 

In tlie morning the yard and fields looked 
as though a hurricane had passed over them, 
^o completely was the grass trodden down 
and the fences destroyed for fire-wood. The 
officers made arrangements with Uncle Sea- 
man to provide their table with milk and but- 
ter, and guaranteed his safety from foraging 
parties. 



The Early Histoiy of BTOok'yn. 89 

The farmers around them suffered severe- 
]y that winter. Pigs and chickens were kept 
in the cellars, fire-woo^l was kept under beds. 
None could be left outside with safety. The 
i^^omen and children left at home, were pow^- 
erless to oppose the demands of a pcU'ty of 
soldiers, who drove away the cows they 
•depended upon. A child would sit by an 
open window ruid keep watch up and down 
the road while the mother ran to the well for 
water. 

One day Gretchen, attended by black Sam, 
went to the camp with milk. The soldiers 
surrounded her as she stood blushing-, in her 
red cloak and hood, until the officer of the 
•day appeared, and took her under his pro- 
tection as the men slunk away. Never after- 
wards was she spoken to, in her journeys to 
camp with Sam. She returned one after- 
noon in a heavy storm, which drenched her 
thoroughly. In the morning she tried to 



90 Jan : A Tale of 

appear bright at breakfast, but her head 
ached badly. She did not speak of it before 
her mother left. 

In the evenin!^-, when Mrs. Van Scoy 
returned, she found Gretchen very ill with 
fever. She undressed her, and Janse sat 
beside her, cooling her hot hands with cold 
water. All night her mother went outside 
when she, in her delirium, called for ice, and 
gathered the snow to put to her hot lips. 
Once she leaned against a tree by the door, 
and looked up through the frosty air at the 
stars, and listened to the wolv^es in the forest. 
This night her courage failed her. She had 
not heard from her husband in months. 
Gretchen so ill, so far from medical skill, and 
no one to share her long vigil .but Janse. 
How her heart brightened when she thought 
of her strong, brave boy. 

When Aunt Norchie came over in the 
morning, tliey decided to send him ten miles 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 91 

to the Indian settlement to a medicine man 
there. Janse found him in his wigwam, 
stretched upon a pile of furs. Black-haired 
children rolled upon the ground. The squaw 
sat in the door-way, with a long wrap of 
skins around her, beautifully trimmed with 
wild grasses and ferns sewed upon it. Janse 
was so anxious about Gretchen, he hurried 
home as rapidly as possible. 

The next day she was still more delirious,, 
and Aunt Norchie even became discouraged. 
Janse said he would go down to the beach, 
and see if there was any vessel going to New 
York, that he might go and consult their old 
physician. He found one boat ready to 
start, but the crew demurred about taking 
him, until Gaptain Jones appeared, whom he 
had 9ften met at Uncle Seaman's. He spoke 
to the crew aside, and then said Janse might 
come down in the afternoon to sail with 
them. 



«92 Jd'^ ■ ^ Tale of 

It was late when the sloop sailed. To 
Janse it was delightful, although it was 
rather cold when the spray dashed over him. 
The sloop cut its way bravely through the 
waters. He fell asleep by midnight, and was 
awakened by loud voices beside him. The 
sloop was at anchor in the middle of the 
Sound, beside another vessel without lights, 
to which they were transferring their cargo. 

For a few minutes Janse was dazed ; then 
slowly he comprehended the situation, as he 
saw several barrels from Uncle Seaman's 
rstore-room carried out of the hold. The 
•Captain explained the whole situation to him, 
for he said Uncle Seaman had said Janse was 
to be trusted. 

A vessel awaited them at a given spot on 
the Sound, which conveyed their cargo of 
produce and clothing to the American army. 
All along the Island, people were aiding, in 
this way, their starving, freezing friends, as 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 93; 

their poverty would allow. Few were as 
rich as Uncle Seaman. In the early morn- 
ing they passed tlnough 1 ]ell Gate, a dan- 
gerous bed of rocks in the East River, well 
known to the sailors around New York. 

They saw a large British vessel coming 
behind them over the dangerous rocks. The 
Captain watched it with interest. He and 
his crew were too familiar with those v;aters 
to dash through as recklessly as the British 
Captain was doing. It was but a moment, till 
she ran upon a large rock, which stove a hole 
through her bottom. She sank rapidly. 
Part of* the crew jumped and swam to the 
sloop ; then she sank to the bottom with an 
immense amount of gold to the bed of the 
river, where they have lain one hundred years. 

Janse was ready to return with the sloop 
that same evening. When they again 
reached the trysting place on the waters, they 
met a vessel at anchor, to which they con- 



94 y^^^ •' ^4 Tale of 

veyed the guns and ammunition sent by 
friends from New York. 

Janse gave his mother the medicine for 
Gretchen, which reheved her immediately. 
In a few days she was able to taste the fruit, 
and look at the English picture papers Cap- 
tain Lushington sent to her from camp to 
amuse her and Katharine, while their mother 
was at the big house. 

Janse was not strong enough for much 
work that summer. He was generally seen 
early in the morning, starting for the woods, 
with his gun upon his shoulder, or with old 
Caesar, out on the bay in his boat, although 
it was noticed that he never brought any 
result of his labors l^ack with him. The 
black boys on the place thought " Massa 
Janse hab easy times," and offered to go with 
him to row the boat, but he always declined. 
They didn't see the roll of cloth or linen 
under Janse's jacket. 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 95 

He was a good marksman, and often car- 
ried a boat load of wild ducks to the cave 
under the hill, where the Captain of the 
sloop found them at night. He would leave 
Caesar in the boat below the cliff, take his 
gun and reconnoitre the vicinity before he 
signalled him to land. If he met foraging 
parties out from camp, they laughed at his 
idle life, without suspecting the truth. 

Janse was an energetic, ambitious bey. 
His cheeks would flush hotly when he met 
any of his poor neiglibors, hard worked 
women carrying their little '' garden sass " to 
the store to exchanp'e for articles of neces- 
sity, when he apparently was playing his life 
^ away. But when he met Captain Jones of the 
sloop, who told him of the half naked, half 
starved men in the army, who blessed him 
for food and clothing, he would resolve to 
work harder to keep his rocky store-room con- 
stantly replenished through the summer. 



96 yan : A Tale of 

Caesar had learned the trade of shoemak- 
ing in his youth, and as much as he remem- 
bered he taught Janse. All through the 
next fall, as the evenings grew longer, they 
were in an upper room, with a thick blanket 
pinned before the window, making shoes,, 
coarse and clumsy to be sure ; but thick and 
warm, which found their way in time to the 
cave, that a few, at least, of the men, who the 
winter before tracked the snow with their 
feet frozen and bloody, might be more com- 
fortable. 

Back in the country faithful hearts beat for 
the absent ones. They heard of the battles 
between the British and Americans, as month- 
after month rolled on. The women and 
children had almost forgotten what it was 
to have a man to work and care for 
them. 

The children were learning to forget their 
fathers face^ They had grown like Janse 



The Eaidy History of Brooklyn. 97 

from childhood to manhood. His mother at 
last consented to his going down to Brooklyn 
to learn a trade at the mill at Walla- 
bout. 



VIII. 




ROOKLYN then consisted of sev- 
eral hamlets ; one around the ferry 
of about fifty houses. A steep hill 
arose to the west of it, studded with forest 
trees. On the top were orchards and mar- 
ket farms. The hill extended all along the 
water front, where each farmer kept his boat 
to carry his produce over to the Fly Mar- 
ket. 

One afternoon, the miller gave Janse a 
half-holiday, and he started on his long cher- 
ished plan of a search for some tidings of his 
father. 

On the Heights was a battery of eight 
^uns. This he first investigated. Then 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 99 

•down in the hollow, and up another hill, at 
the present corner of Court and Adantic 
Streets, called '* Cobble Hill." Here a charge 
had been made. The grass of summer, and 
the snows of winter had covered the ground 
since the fight; but he picked up arrow-heads 
and buttons of the Forty-second Highland- 
ers. On Fort Greene the skeletons in the 
blue clothes and leather buttons of the Con- 
tinental army were still lying. 

He walked down the Clove road to the 
iield where he was wounded. Here he 
found a broken musket with '' P. H." marked 
on its iron lock, close by a figure clad in the 
striped, home spun, so often seen on the vil- 
lage streets. He knew the man — one of the 
neighbors at Uncle Seaman's. He unclasped 
the gun and took it away with him, to send 
back to the man's family at the first opportu- 
nity. It was a nerve-aching afternoon, for a 
lad to sit under the trees and see the long 



lOO Jan : A Tale of 

hillocks of green grass, and know they were 
mounds covering the simple folk, his neigh- 
bor's, who were fighting for their children and 
their homes. 

It was uncertain about his father. He 
might rest in one of those long graves ; but 
as long as he could find nothing above 
ground to assure him of his death, he hoped 
on, that some day he would come home. But 
why he did not send them some word, they 
could not understand. 

The years rolled on. Still Janse watched 
and waited. His mother's nervous system 
had broken down under the prolonged strain. 
She sat in her easy chair at Uncle Seaman's, 
a confirmed invalid, patient and submissive 
in her widowhood, for she had given up 
all hope of ever seeing her husband again. 
Janse's visits home were the bright days in 
her calendar. Gretchen was as tall as her 
mother, straight as an arrow, dark-eyed, and 



The Early History of Bi'ooklyn. loi 

crimson lipped. She came down one summer 
to visit Janse at the miller's. Fortunately, it 
was the time of the summer excursions, for 
the British army enjoyed every o[)portunity 
for pleasure. 

Janse took her in his row-boat, to see 
brilliant ladies and British officers in their 
boating parties on the East River. Uncle 
Seaman's liberality had provided her with 
clothes equal to any of the high-bdrn dames; 
but she was only a country-bred little rebel, 
while they had never done much greater 
work than dance and play on the spinet ; 
consequently Janse was somewhat surprised 
to see Captain Lushington leave his gay 
friends at the Battery, and motion him to 
approach with his boat, into which he step- 
ped to greet Gretchen, wdiom he invited to 
attend a race at Flatlands, by the horses of 
noblemen and gentlemen. Janse at first hes- 
itated, but the Captain urged his case so 



I02 Jan: A Tale of 

strongly, he consented ; for it was of interest 
to him to appear on good terms with the 
British. He could disguise his real senti- 
ments better. He frequently had business 
with the Commandant, for the Wallabout 
Mill supplied the British on Long Island with 
grain. He kept his eyes and ears open, and: 
many important movements he was able in 
this way to send to General Washington. 

The stone house at the ferry was called 
the ''King's Head Tavern," where parties- 
came from New York to eat fish. The host 
was a strong royalist ; and now, in honor of 
the Queen's birthday, there was to be unu- 
sual festivities. Early on the appointed day, 
Gretchen was at the miller's door in her rid- 
ing habit A servant brought her horse up, 
a dapple gray pony, as the black horse which, 
bore Captain Lushington pranced up, the 
admiration of the black faces which crowded 
the kitchen windows watching their departure* 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 103 

Gretcben was so happy she could have 
sung with the birds, as they rode along. 
The dew was still on the leaf and flower that 
soft June morning, as they rode past the 
camp at Bedford, where the regiments had 
dug barracks out of the earth and covered 
with planks. 

When they reached the field, the first 
thing in order was a hunt Captain Lush- 
inglon bowed to every person they met. 
Gretchen's cheeks were aflame as she noticed 
the attention she attracted. Noble ladies 
laughed and chatted in French to him. Some 
sentences she could understand, for he had 
taught her some of the language in the long 
winters he had encamped near Uncle Sea- 
man's. When they had all dismounted he led 
her to a seat upon the stand to view the horse 
race. After that the whole party adjourned to> 
the tavern at the ferry, for dinner. Gretchen 
followed the ladies from the dressing to the 



I04 Jan : A Tale of 

dining-room, where Captain Lushington 
awaited her. Lady Ahce, his cousin, who 
had often heard of the kindness of the Sea- 
man's to her favorite cousin, took especial 
pains to make her at home among strange 
faces. In the evening the tavern was Hghted 
with two hundred wax candles. The best 
band on Manhattan Island made the British 
at home playing their national airs. 

The rebels were not allowed to approach 
nearer than the Heights, where the country 
folk looked in mingled wonder and wrath. 
But their time was coming ; right will con- 
quer in tlie end. 

Janse one evening took Gretchen in his 
row-boat around the ferry, past the Heights 
and the house upon the summit where Gen- 
eral Washington and Lafayette, on the night 
of the battle on Long Island, decided to 
retreat to New York. They counted in the 
vicinity eighteen line of battle ships, and sev- 



The Early History of Brooklyn 105 

'Cnty-five transports belonging" to the British 
navy. It was enough to awe and paralyze 
the few people in rebellion to see the strength 
of the enemy; Init from the half- starved peo- 
ple in the cabins along the coast, from Maine 
to Georgia, arose the incense of constant, 
fervent prayer to Him who led his chosen 
people in their efforts to be free. 

Near the n^iill at Walbiboiit lay the prison 
ship ' Jersc)'." the hulk of a British vessel, 
worn out and anchored there on the bead]. 
In the winter they dug a trench in the snow 
and threw the dead in. In the summer they 
brought them from the ship every morning 
and buried them along shore. 

The thousand prisoners on board were 
sick with all manner of diseases that want 
and misery could bring upon them. Every 
one was afraid to go on board. Janse often 
rowed around the vessel and saw the white 
faces crowded close to the port-holes for a 



io6 Jail 

breath of air, and always looked for his father. 
At last he made up his mind he would risk 
disease, and ask permission of the miller to 
go on board and sell meal. This the miller 
granted, with the understanding that he was 
never to go in the clothes he ordinarily wore ; 
he must keep an old suit in the boat-house 
to wear when he went on board. 



IX. 




HE first morning he went, the mil- 
ler's wife roasted chickens for him ta 
take on board to the sick. He noticed 
the fish in the water, darting and sporting. 
They were free, while the men he was going 
to see were dying for air. 

Many, many mornings he went on board, 
and almost every time decided it would be 
the last. The foul air coming out of the 
hold sickened him. The emaciated men 
haunted him ; but each time he went again to 
give them a bit of comfort and look for his 
father. 

One morning he went as usual. He clam- 
bered up the ladder hanging outside, and 



:i 08 Jan : A Tale of 

saluted the marine walking the deck, gun in 
hand, and saw him approach the officer of 
the day for orders. Janse looked around on 
the pale, haggard men, who were allowed to 
come on deck in companies, to breathe the 
fresh air and feel the sun. He noticed one 
face, the skin drawn tightly over the bones. 
"The sunken eyes looked so eagerly at him it 
startled him. He ch'd not remember the face, 
when a wan smile lit up the countenance and 
he saw a resemblance to Katharine. Could 
it be his father ? Was it possible for five 
years to change anyone so much ? He had 
always remembei-'ed his father as he left 
home, a tall, broad-shouldered trapper. 
Could this thin, broken down old man be 
he? 

He looked again, and the smile reassured 
lilm, it must be ! Fortunately the officer's 
eyes were down writing the order, or he 
"would have noticed Janse turn extremely 



The Eaidy History of Brooklyn. 109 

pale, and lean up ngainst the railing for sup- 
port. He could only smile an answering- 
recognition, when he was obliged to leave 
the vessel. He never knew how he reached, 
home. The reality unnerved him. So many 
mornings he had gone on board and heard 
the cry, *' Bring out your dead," and left, 
thinking his father might be one of them, 
that it was almost too much joy to think he 
was alive. But Janse knew he could not 
live long in that pest-house. The next day,, 
when he visited the prison ship, he dropped 
a slip of paper at the feet of one of the pris- 
oners he was acquainted with addressed to- 
his father, asking him to be at a certain port- 
hole the first stormy night. How anxiously 
the next day he watched the clouds. On the 
second evening, a thunder storm came upi. 
Fast and furious poured the. rain on the land 
and water, while thick darkness settled down. 
Happy Janse swam out to the. appointed 



1 lo Jctn : A Tale of 

place, and talked for some time to his father, 
while the sentry was at the other end of tlie 
boat. O the questions and answers ! For 
five years Mr. Van Scoy had not heard from 
home, until he had heard the prisoners speak 
of " Janse the miller." The once strong man 
was crushed and despairing and would fain 
take heart of the lad, who cheered him with 
promises to try every means for his release. 

The miller gave him a holiday on the next 
day, to go to New York and try to get his 
father exchanged. His first thought was of 
Captain Lushington, whom he found with a 
party of officers, bowling nine pins on the 
green opposite head- quarters, the present 
number one Broadway. 

Janse explained his business, which the 
Captain entered into heartily, but thought 
Janse had better see the Commandant him- 
self, to whom he would introduce him. When 
he entered the General's presence, he w^as 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 1 1 1 

faint from nervousness, but the thoueht of 
the haggard man, shut down in tlie foul heat 
of that prison hold, strengthened him. The 
General heard his story quietly, then said : 

'' Have you been on that pestilent ship ?" 

** Yes, sir," he answered. 

'* What was your object in going to almost 
certain death." 

*' I took food to make them more comfort- 
able, and I was looking for my father." 

''And you found him, and want him ex- 
changed ?" 

** Yes, sir," and Janse's large dark eyes 
were raised imploringly to the General's face, 
who sat for a few minutes shading his eyes 
with his hand ; for before them came the 
stately home of his childhood, and again he 
was a boy, and the noble, hearty gentleman, 
his father, was preparing him for his first 
bunt. He could almost feel the wind again 
in his face, as he dashed over fence and ditch 



112 Jan: A Tale of 

the first one in at the death, and could hear 
again his father's shout at his success. But 
many years he had been sleeping in the par- 
ish church-yard, and the General's eyes were 
dimmed when he turned to Janse and prom- 
ised to investigate and send him word by 
Captain Lushington. 

Janse had no opportunity of visiting the 
Jersey before he received the papers of ex- 
change. Captain Lushington offered to drive 
him up to Uncle Seaman's if he wished to go, 
and make arrangements about his father's 
return. 

Two years had passed since Janse had 
been at home. He left Captain Lushington 
at the tavern, and walked down the lane 
alone. He stopped at the cabin. The latch 
string was drawn in, and everything left in 
order for the family's return. He went on to 
the Big House, stopping at the slaves' quar- 
ters outside to have a chat with Caesar and 



The Early Histojy of Bi'ooklyn. 113 

the picanninnies. Dinah was in the kitchen 
(^f the house, who said all were out riding" 
but Gretchen, who was in the end room spin- 
ning. 

Janse walked through the rear hall and 
watched her, stepping lightly backwards and 
forwards, her fingers stained with the blue 
dye of the wool she was spinning. Her 
dress was a white cambric short gown, and 
green silk skirt, red stockings and high- 
heeled slippers. Her dark eyes softened, and 
the color came in her creamy cheeks when she 
saw Janse. 

The good new^s was soon told, and all was 
rejoicing when the rest came home ; although 
it was thought best not to inform Mrs. Van 
Scoy until her husband was really out of 
bondage. Her illness and her removal to 
another part of the house making this possi- 
ble ; the knowledge of Janse's visit beings 
kept a secret from her. 
8 



114 Jd'^ ' A Tale of 

The next morninf^ Uncle Seaman returned 
with Janse in a long covered wagon, in which 
they placed a bed and pillows to make Mr. 
Van Scoy more comfortable on his journey 
home. The pass for his release was sent on 
the Jersey the night Janse reached Brooklyn, 
but his father could not come on shore until 
daybreak the next morning. 

Soon after midnight Janse was dressed, 
and thinking it must be nearly morning, went 
down-stairs to the kitchen, the light from the 
fire in the great fireplace shone on the face 
of the tall clock, showing the hands to be at 
one o'clock. He threw himself down on the 
" settle," and slept until Uncle Seaman awoke 
him as the first rays of the sun appeared in 
the east. They were soon on the beach 
waiting. How long the time seemed until 
eight o'clock. They saw the small boat put 
out from the Jersey, and at last reach shore. 
Janse lifted his father in his strong arms and 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 115 

carried him, almost a skeleton, to the house 
where he was bathed and dressed in his own 
clothes which Gretchen had sent down, and 
laid upon a feather-bed, to rest before din- 
ner. 

The miller's wife had cooked a chicken 
pot-pie ; but Janse could not eat, for a lump 
which kept coming up in his throat, as he fed 
his father, who was too weak and ill to feed 
himself He was so anxious to get home, 
that they started, ill as he appeared, early in 
the afternoon. When they were about a 
mile from home, they found one of the black 
boys on horseback, waiting to be assured of 
Mr. Van Scoy's safe arrival, who dashed off 
home with the tidings, according to agree- 
ment, that Mrs. Van Scoy might be prepared 
for the meeting. But she, as well as the 
rest saw that he was too exhausted to be 
excited, so they received him quietly as 
though he had been gone but a day, and let 



1 1 6 Jan. 

him lie on the high bed and drink in his hap- 
piness with his eyes. Janse returned to 
Brooklyn almost as white and ill as his 
father. All his youth, his mind had been 
fixed upon the thought of finding his father; 
now that it was all true what he had often 
dreamed of, he hardly knew what to think 
about now. 

But in a week's time he was the happiest 
lad in Brooklyn ; tall as the miller, for he was. 
nineteen years old, the best runner and 
jumper in the village, where his bright face 
and cheery whistle was known in every part. 



X. 



•^-^I I ME rolled on. The war was draw- 
ing to a close. Already negotia- 
tions for peace were be^i^un. The 



colonists hoped it was the last winter they 
would be obliged to support a rapacious 
army, whom they hated and feared. 

The winter of 1781 was a bitter one. 
Farmers from the surrounding country 
brought in loads of wood. Those families 
jwho were too poor to buy, were obliged to 
■split up chairs and tables for fire- wood. 
Many suffered severely. Janse went up 
Christmas week to see his father, who was 
able to walk down to the village store, and 
live over again his five years in the army, as 



ii8 Jan: A Tale of 

he recounted the adventures to the farmers, 
who were too old or too young to go into 
the army. Sitting on barrel heads, they 
Hstened with bated breath to the story of 
Valley Forge. 

There Janse found him surrounded by a 
listening crowd, who in the winter spent 
much of their time there. He told them of 
the suffering in town, and arranged to take 
down a load of wood, which the farmers 
joined in sending to their friends in distress. 

One afternoon in the winter of '8i, Janse 
went down to the mill at Red Hook, for a 
load of special grain. The East River was 
frozen over. The soldiers were dragging 
cannon from Staten Island to New Jersey on 
the ice. He came back through Red Hook 
Lane, passed quiet farm houses, tlie great 
fires in the kitchens illuminating the win- 
dows. Here and there a boy would come 
out of the snow-covered barn-yard and have 



The Early History of Brooklyn. T19 

a chat with Janse. Every one knew him 
between the two mills. 

He passed the Dutch Church, a square, 
gloomy building, standing in the middle of 
the "King's highway, the present Fulton 
Street. Then down to the wagon-) ard near 
the Ferry where all the horses and wagons 
belonging to the British army in this part of 
the country were kept. Here he left some 
of the grain, then on to the fort, at the pres- 
ent corner of Henry and Pierrepont Streets^ 
the largest on the Island then uncompleted^ 
on the work of which two thousand soldiers 
were employed. But they were soon to 
leave their fruitless labor, and even General 
Raisdesel, commandant, who lived in a small 
house on the shore, was in constant terror of 
the rebels carrying him off captive. 

He kept a constant patrol around his own 
house, and every night pickets were stationed 
around the fort and wagon-house ; so when 



1 20 Jan : A Tale of 

Janse left the fort he received a pass to leave 
the limits of the town for Wallabout. 

He was cold and tired when he reached 
liome, where he found Caesar with a letter 
from Uncle Seaman's, telling him that he had 
concluded to give Janse a strirt in life. He. 
had therefore bought De Witt's mill in the 
road above their old home in New York, and 
would put him in charge. Janse was de- 
lighted, and went over early the next morn- 
ing to see his old home, which had been 
occupied all through the war by British sol- 
diers, who had now gone to Canada. How 
Lis heart sank when he entered the yard. 
All the out-buildings were destroyed ; even 
the wood work in the house chopped up for 
fire-wood, and all the windows broken. 
There was but the shell of a house remain- 
ing. 

It took all his spare time the following 
spring to render the house habitable. The 



The Early History of Brooklyn. i 2 1 

kind Dutch neiL>libcrs who had remained in 
town under British protection, helped him ; 
one woman coming in to white -wash, while 
another scrubbed the floors. The eld lilacs 
nodded in the kitchen window as of old. 
Janse made tlie kitchen garden, before he 
furnished the house with the load of furni- 
ture he brought down from the cabin. The 
few china plates were hung for ornaments 
upon the wi)ite- washed walls, the brass can- 
dle-stick and snuffers shone brightiy on the 
shelf The mahogany chest stood in the 
familiar corner. The claw-feet chairs pressed 
the clean sanded floor, and Janse thought it 
looked as natural as it did six years before, 
as he took a last look before lockino- the 
door, and jumping in the wagon to go down 
to the ferry. 

With a light heart he brought them home, 
through the present Wall Street, then famous 
for its splendid shade trees, up to the old 



12 2 Jan : A Tale of 

door, where all the neighbors were assem- 
bled to welcome them home. 

They settled down to the old life ; but how 
changed. Mr. Van Scoy's broken health 
only enabled him to assist Janse at the mill. 
Mrs. Van Scoy was a confirmed invalid. 
Janse was the bread winner, and Gretchen 
the housekeeper. The mill prospered while 
the British remained, but at last the time 
came for them to bid farewell to our shores. 

November 25th, 1783, was the day fixed 
for their departure, and the entry of the 
American Army. The British marched from 
all parts of the town to Whitehall in the 
morning. They refused to leave until noon. 

Janse went down to the Barracks to bid 
his friends good-bye, for they had been kind 
to him ; then hastened home to prepare for 
the afternoon. As he passed a house he 
saw the American flag run up. Immediately 
an Englishman commanded it to be torn 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 123 

down. This the man of the house refused to 
do, and his wife appearing upon the scene 
with a broomstick, beat the foe upon the 
head until the powder flew out of his wig in 
all directions, and he was glad to retreat, 
leaving the flag flying. 

Clear and bright shone the autumnal sun 
through the trees dressed in holiday attire, 
upon the American procession, marching 
down the Bowery, General Knox command- 
ing. After the army came all the trades, 
represented by men at work upon trucks. 

Janse stood by a miniature mill. Then 
came the furriers and Indians dressed in the 
scarlet blankets, and feathers and beads they 
so much admired. It was the finest proces- 
sion ever seen in this country at that time. 
After all came the whole population of the 
town. 

By three o'clock the last Britisli soldier had 
left the Island, and General Knox entered 



1 24 Jan. 

Port George at the Battery. The British 
flag waved proudly over them in derision ; 
for the flag-staff had been greased to prevent 
any one ascending. Cheers rent the air as 
they saw the British vessels sailing out in the 
Bay, and hisses as they saw that flag beyond 
their reach. But quick as the carpenters in 
the procession could prepare cleets Janse 
handed ihem to Van Arsdale, who began 
nailinor them from die bottom of the flacr-staff 
which he ascended step by step, uailing each 
•cleat before him until he reached the top, 
"when he tore down the sign of the oppressors 
and flung in on the water, and shook out 
from its summit- the American flag, amidst 
the booming' of cannon, and* the shouts of 
thousands beneath him, victory atdast. 



XI. 




HE city, after the British left it, was 
desolate indeed. The American 
families which had fled upon its 
occupation by the British, now returned to find 
buildings defaced, gardens destroyed, old 
friends estranged by the bitterness of party 
strife, for there were many families who had 
become royalists because it was to their 
interest to do so. 

Janse's trade at the mill had been almost 
entirely with the army. After their depart- 
ure, the mill arms were frequently quiet for 
days. 

Captain Lushington did not leave with the 
army. He sold out his commission, and 



126 Jan: A Tale of 

bought land at Jamaica where there were 
many royaHsts. He built a fine house of the 
style of his English home, and there, one day 
he brought Gretchen, a bride. 

It was a very hard year for Janse. The 
mill brought in so little money, he was at his 
wit's end to provide food for the family. 
He cultivated his garden ; not only raised the 
vegetables they lived upon, but sold enough 
to furnish actual necessities. He made tip 
his mind at last that he would try some other 
means of earning a living. Gretchen had 
proposed taking her father and mother home 
with her for the summer the next time she 
came to New York, then it would not be 
necessary for him to remain longer at home. 
She came down unexpectedly and took them 
back with her in her handsome carriage 
drawn by four horses, and her liveried ser- 
vants attending her. 

Janse locked the house door, and borrow- 



The Early History of Brooklyn 127 

ing a boat of a neighbor living on the river, 
rowed over to Wallabout to the mill where 
he had learned his trade. The miller was 
very glad to secure his services, and made 
arrangements for him to begin the following 
Monday. Entering his boat again, he rowed 
a mile down the river to the house of a Qua- 
keress, whom Uncle Seaman's family were 
intimate with ; she was a widow and lived 
alone. Janse tied his boat to the stake on 
the shore, and walked up the path to the 
side door and knocked. 

Rebecca Jones answered the knock, and 
greeting him warmly said, ''Will thee walk 
in, Janse ?" and she led the way into the 
clean white living room. The floor was 
scrubbed until it shone, the pine table was 
spotless, the walls were white- washed, the 
curtains to the windows were as pure as snow, 
if cleanliness is next to godliness, this Quak- 
eress was very near perfection in this respect. 



128 Jan: A Tale of 

** This Is Naomi Bunker," said she, as a 
young girl came in from the garden with a 
pan of currants in her hands she had just 
picked. 

'' Perhaps thee remembers her." 

" O yes," said Janse, *' Gretchen and I had 
been many days nutting in the woods with 
her, when we first moved to Uncle Seaman's."' 
And he shook her hand eagerly ; she scarcely 
raised her large gray eyes, as she murmured 
some words of recognition, and demurely 
seated herself on the door-step, and began to- 
stem the currants for tea. 

Janse had a long conversation with Friend 
Rebecca, after she said she would receive him 
into her family while he worked at the mill. 
She told him of her own chasten in gs since 
they had met before, of her loneliness, and 
the call she had felt to take in, and watch 
over Naomi. Her parents had recently died,, 
and she bad just recovered from a long illness^ 



The Early History of Brooklyn, 129 

and had come to Brooklyn, in hopes that the 
sea air would restore her health. She had 
enough of this world's goods, but had no oric 
to take care of her, poor maid. Rebecca's 
soothing, quiet ministry were working a 
cure. 

Janse thought she made a very pleasant 
picture as she sat in the door-way, in the 
shadow of the maple tree, dressed in drab 
with a white handkerchief around her neck, 
the ends crossed over her breast, the white 
cap hiding her hair all but a narrow streak 
in front where it shone like black ribbon. 
Her \'^^\^^g dark eyelashes were seldom raised 
from her pale soft cheeks, as her little hands 
picked off the red currants. She was so 
small and thin, she did not look as old as she 
was — seventeen years. The longer Janse 
looked upon her, the deeper grev/ a feeling 
of half protection, half pity ; he did not exactly 
know what it was, only he realized that some 
9 



130 Jan: A Tale of 

influence made Rebecca's house a pleasant 
home in anticipation, as he very cordially 
thanked her again for being kind enough 
to take him to board. 

He brought his trunk over that night, and 
the next day being Sunday, he attended the 
Dutch Church. In the afternoon, Rebecca 
and Naomi sat perfectly quiet and read their 
Bibles. Janse would have liked to have 
walked around the barn, and looked at the 
cattle, but he respected their feelings and 
remained in the house until evening, when he 
ventured to ask Naomi to walk down the 
shore with him, when she hesitated, Rebecca 
said : 

" Thee had better go, for thy doctor said 
thee must have plenty of sea air. Then put- 
ting on a close silk bonnet, she walked with 
Janse down through the orchard. Her 
silence embarrassed him ; the girls whom he 
knew in the village, were always ready to 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 131 

talk, but this one was unlike any he had ever 
seen. Coming to an old boat drawn up on the 
beach, he asked her if she would rather rest 
awhile, she did not answer, but bowed and 
walked slowly along. Presently they turned 
back to the house without exchanging a 
dozen words. Janse felt disappointed ; he 
felt angry with the deep bonnet which hid 
her face from his view. He wanted to see 
those dark gray eyes he remembered so well. 
he consoled himself with the reflection, that 
if he lived any length of time in the house 
with her, she would learn to be more friendly 
with him. 

The next day Pinxter, (Whitsuntide), he 
invited her to go with him down to the ferry 
stairs, and see the slaves dance for the silver 
pieces the gentlemen gave them ; for this was 
a great holiday with the colored people. 
Raising her luminous eyes, she said in her 
soft low voice : 



T32 Jan: A Tale of 

" I am constrained to tell thee, Friend 
Janse, that I cannot go and see my poor 
colored brother in bondage, made the sport 
of idle men." 

**' Colored brother !" exclaimed Janse, and 
then the comparison made him laugh out- 
right. 

She looked at him calmly, and answered : 

" If thee had read thy Bible well, thee 
would know we are all of one family ; but I 
mean not to argue with thee, friend Janse, I 
have only given my testimony." 

Janse did not invite her to go out with him' 
again. He gave up trying to make her talk. 
He could not help noticing how neatly she 
always looked and how quietly she moved 
around the house. She rested him every 
time he came in from the noisy mill. 

Sometimes he would catch a first glimpse 
of her as he came over from the water, sitting* 
on the long grass in the orchard, knitting or 



The Early History of Bi^ooklyn. 133 

liemming the white handkerchiefs she always 
wore around her neck. 

Rebecca owned a boat, which he used in 
^oing" to and returning from his work. He 
had fastened the boat and stood a moment 
to enjoy the particularly fine sunset, then 
turning suddenly, he saw Naomi leaning 
against an old apple tree, so absorbed in the 
viev/ that she had not heard him arrive. She 
was looking with eyes transfixed through the 
golden sunset to the land, where all her fam- 
ily had gone before. Tears fell unheeded 
from her eyes ; her entire mind was with the 
past and future. Creeping softly behind 
another tree, Janse waited for her to regain 
her composure and enter the house before 
Jiim. The scene impressed him strongly, he 
could not analyze his own feelings. She 
looked so spiritual, a terrible dread came in 
his mind that perhaps she was not long for 
this world ; the thought cut him Hke a knife. 



1 34 Jan : A Tale of 

He followed her into the house, and drank 
the cup of tea she passed him, and ate the 
waffles she had baked, but all the while he 
was picturing a life without her sweet pres- 
ence in it. It became unendurable, he 
imagined she had changed in a few days, and 
was much thinner and paler, really in a 
decline. He left the house in distress. 

The stars were appearing in the sky. 
Rebecca had gone to the village when Janse 
came in from the barn. The room was in its 
usual order, but no Naomi. Passing through 
he entered the litde white-washed shed 
where the roughest work was done, close by 
the window which overlooked the river, sat 
Naomi. She did not turn as Janse came up 
behind her, and putting his hands on both 
sides of her head, smoothed down her wet 
cheeks. She sat very quietly as he gently 
drew her head back until it rested against 
him. He asked her what troubled her, and 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 135 

then she told him of her lonehness. He 
knew his feehngs then ; it was a longing to 
take her to his care, and then with the sound 
of katydids and crickets around tliem, they 
learned each other's secret. How slie had 
always thought of her old schoolfellow ; but 
had been too shy at the first to talk much to 
him of the old times, and then she had 
thought he could not care for a plain little 
girl like she. And so the loneliness had 
grown upon her, the only bright spots in the 
day being his return to his meals. Now the 
whole world was filled with the light that 
never was on land and sea. 

When Rebecca returned, she found them 
sitting together, with the full moon shining 
on them through the trees. She rejoiced 
with them. Afterwards talked over ways and 
means ; advised them to defer their marriage 
for a few years, as they were both so young ; 
but after she had retired to her own room. 



136 Jail: A Tale of 

laughed aloud, as she replaced her Quaker 
boimet in its large box. It was just what she 
]iad planned, tlie first day Janse came. 

She was very fond of botli, and before she 
slept had taken a mental view of the contents 
of the chests in the garret, and laid aside an 
enviable outfit for Naomi, of table linen of 
her own spinning, and weaving at least ten 
bed quilts, three down covers, and bed linen 
without end. And she really thought, as she 
settled herself for slumber, that she would 
send to Philadelphia for the drab silk for the 
wedding dress. She had her own way in the 
matter ; the two most interested were too 
liappy to think about such minor things as 
furniture and clothes. 

They rowed out on the river in the moon- 
light. They took early morning walks. 
They thought the world would hold but one 
brighter day for them, and that came in 
October, when the simple service of the 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 137 

Quakers' made tliem husband and wife, and 
then went over to New York to beein 

o 

housekeeping in Janse's old home, and re- 
sume business at the mill. 

Mr. and Mrs. Van Scoy remained the resl 
of their life with Gretchen, only coming dowr- 
occasionally to see little Naomi and Rebecca, 
and after many years a little Jansen. 



III. 




LL right, mother ; I must hurry, or 
the boat will be in, and Jansen will 
not know where to go. He does 
not know where we have moved," said Ned 
Smith, as his mother handed liim his cap she 
had been mending, and putting it on his 
head, he darted off to the ferry to receive 
Jansen Van Scoy, who was coming over to 
Brooklyn to visit his friend Ned Smith. 

Years had passed since his father, a young* 
man of^twenty had viewed the departure of 
the British from our shores. Now his son 
Jansen, was coming over to the place once so 
familiar to him. Ned reached the new ferry 
in time to greet Jansen. 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 139 

*' I'm glad you came this morning, Jansen, 
for all us boys are going to see if there are 
any eggs left in the birds' nests in the woods 
on Clover Hill, this afternoon." 

- Where's Clover Hill ?" 

Why, on your left hand, right before your 
eyes. The teacher said he would give us an 
hou-r off from school this afternoon. We are 
making a collection of all varieties of eggs. 
Will you go in school this afternoon ?" 

- Yes." 

'' Well, I don't want to be late ; let's race. 
One, two, three," and off they ran down Fur- 
man Street to the main road, up the road 
until they came to the school. At three 
o'clock the boys were released, and were 
soon scattered over Clover Hill, a thick 
woods, between the ferry and the Navy Yard. 
In their racing and playing in the woods, 
Ned Smith's mended cap became a complete 
wreck. When he reached home bareheaded. 



1 40 Jan : A Tale of 

his mother said he might go after supper and 
buy a new one. 

Brooklyn, in 1824, was a sleepy country 
village nestling in the thick foliage of many 
fine trees. The old country road, the pres- 
-ent Fulton Street, was the highway which 
ran through the Island, from the ferry to 
Montauk Point; on each side of this as far as 
its juncture with the road from the new ferry, 
the present Main Street, were most of the 
dwellings in the village. The stores were all 
on this road within a tew blocks from the 
ferry. To one of these Ned and Jansen 
went for a cap. While the hatter was trying 
to fit Ned's head, some one in the road cried, 
'^ Fire ! fire !" that was enough for the boys. 

They ran to the firemen's house, in the 
hall of which were always standing large 
buckets to be used in case of fire in the vil- 
lage. Every house had buckets in the hall, 
but in the firemen's house were an extra 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 141 

number. Ned and Jansen each seized one: 
and ran to the pump at the corner of the pre- 
sent Fulton and Hicks Streets. Then, form- 
ing in line with the rest of the people, men, 
women and children, they passed the filled 
buckets down the line to those nearest the 
fire, which proved to be the chimney at the 
bakery on the right hand side of the road. 
Every one worked with a vviH, not only out. 
of kindness to the baker, but in their own 
interest. It was the only bakery in town. 

Ned Smith had that very afternoon run up 
the steps to the bake-shop. It did not 
require very great exertion to subdue the 
flames ; but the boys stood on the corner of 
Buckbee's Alley and discussed the matter, 
listening to Mr. Hick's description of his dis- 
covery of the fire as he was coming out of 
Coe Downing's Stage House. 

" Jansen," said Ned, as they put out the 
candle before retiring at night, '' I'm going" 



142 Jan : A Tale of 

to be the first one at the new market which 
is to be opened to-morrow. Do you want to 
go too ?" 

*' Of course I do ; call me early." 
In the chilly dawn, they crept out the back 
gate to the old ferry road at the foot of 
which stood the new market, close by the 
ferry stairs. Already the business of the 
day had begun. One of the butchers said if 
Ned would come down in the afternoon, he 
would make it all right with him. Ned said 
he would, but he thought he must devote 
most of his time to his guest. 

After breakfast, they went into Ludlow's 
orchard to see the firing of a target company, 
which had come over from New York. Jan- 
sen, in his excitement, stood very near the 
target, and received a ball in his side, as they 
thought; fainting, he dropped upon the 
ground. All was confusion. One said, run 
for Dr. Wendell — run for water — take him 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 143 

over to Mr. BIrdsairs. When Mr. Hicks 
appeared upon the scene, lie quickly ar- 
ranged a stretcher out of a door, and 
had Jansen carried to Dr. Hunt's, the whole 
village, apparently, following. The genial, 
kind physician examined Jansen careful- 
ly, and found the ball in his clothing ; he 
had escaped unhurt. When he found this 
out he quickly jumped up as well as ever. 
But the citizens were aroused to the danger, 
and holding a meeting in the evening, passed 
resolutions forbidding target companies 
shooting in the village. 

After Jansen had been talked to by Father 
Snow, whom he had met upon the road, on 
,the Providence which had spared him, and 
been sympathized over by Mrs. Smith, he 
ate his dinner, and went with Ned down to 
the market to see what was wanted. 

The butcher explained that the old flag 
which he had for so many years run up on 



T44 Jan: A Tale of 

the flag-staff at the ferry, had become too 
worn and thin for further use. He wished 
the people of the village to contribute enough 
money to purchase a new one. He had 
written several notes upon the subject, which 
he wished Ned to carry to their addresses 
and return him the answers. 

This Ned agreed to do. Taking Jansen 
with him, they went first to Mrs. Duffield's, 
opposite the old Dutch Church, then to the 
Pierrepont Mansion on the Heights over- 
looking the Bay. Next to the large stone 
house shaded by willows, on the present 
Hicks Street, where they again met Mr. 
Hicks, who insisted upon their coming into 
the house and having a glass of cordial and a 
piece of seed cake. Then to Mr. Middach, 
a pleasant frame house, where they were 
kindly received by Mrs. Sands, who was 
known and loved by every child who attend- 
ed St. Ann's Church. She gave them some 



The Early History of Bjvoklyn. 145 

fruit, and told them she hoped to see them 
in church the next day. 

The gentleman had said they might de- 
liver as many as they chose that afternoon. 
Ned thought they would try one more. 
Friend Seaman, a Quaker, who lived in the 
village. When they gave him the note, he 
said : 

'* I cannot give to an outward symbol, but 
I will give ten dollars to assist in taking down 
the old flag." 

Going back to the market, they delivered 
their notes and messages, received pay for 
their services, and then betook themselves 
straight to Mrs. Flower's candy store. 

Sunday morning they attended St. Ann's 
Church, but Jansen was so absorbed and 
dazzled in watching the sunlight on the mar- 
velous chandelier suspended from the ceiling 
he paid very little attention to the service. 

That chandelier was the pride and admira- 
10 



146 Jan: A Tale of 

tion of the whole village. It was the gift of 
Mrs. Sands for whom the church was named. 

"• I say, Jansen," said Ned, " do you see 
that house on the corner of Dock and Front 
Streets ? Well, it's haunted." 

'* Haunted ! how do you know ?" 

'' Why all the boys say so ; catch me go- 
ing past it at night !" 

*' O come on down," said Jansen, "let's 
look at it." As they approached the house 
they saw a strange looking woman laying 
cobble stones in the street. 

"That's her," said Ned. 

" What is she doing that for, is she too 
poor to hire it done ?" 

" No ; she is rich, but she says no one sees 
her as she turns her back to the middle of 
the road. 

'' Sometimes she sits on the housetop all 
flight, to keep cool, she says. The other day, 
when mother crossed the ferry, Mrs. Fisher 



The Early History of Brooklyn, 147 

had her pocket full of eels, carrying them 
home from Fly Market. 

" But come on, here is Mr. Patchen. 
Good morning, sir, any errands for me to dO' 
to-day ?" said Ned. 

''Well, as you are a pretty fair boy, Ned» 
you may go every afternoon down to the 
ferry to the 'Travellers' Inn' where the New- 
York papers are left for distribution, and 
bring mine up to my house." 

" Thank you, sir, I'll be there," and the 
boys stood still in the street and watched the 
old gentleman pass down the road. .He was. 
dressed in buckskin trousers, a dark brown, 
coat, and a broad brimmed hat placed low 
on the back of his head, and was the best 
known man in the village. 

Every afternoon that summer Jansen and 
Ned, after school, took a regular tour around 
the village, generally stopping at Furman's 
Stage House to see the stage start for 



148 Jan : A Tale of 

Jamaica and Flushing ; then down to the 
ferry to Hsten to the ferryman, as the time 
approached for the boat to leave the wharf, 
stand at the head of the ferry stairs, and call 
out, *' Over ! over !" to hasten the passengers 
down to the wharf 

One day as they were taking the papers 
up to Mr. Patchen, they met a wagon loaded 
with silver, followed by a crowd. Curiosity 
prompted them to join it. It turned up the 
road until it reached Mr. Patchen's door. It 
was the money the city wished to pay him 
for using his land which he refused to surren- 
der. When the person in charge asked Mr. 
Patchen to come out on the street and accept 
the money, he sat quietly in his arm-chair 
smoking the pipe he usually carried in his 
hat-band. At last, the patience of the men 
being exhausted they picked him up, arm- 
chair and all, and sat him on top of 'the silver> 
and left him in possession. 



The Early Histoiy of Brooklyn. 149 

" Hurrah, Ned !" said Jansen one morning, 
''the day at last has come !" 

" Oh, take another nap, it's too early yet." 

" I can't rest another minute. I've been 
thinking all night of what my father has told 
me of General Lafayette, how he left his 
home and family in France, and came over 
here when he was only twenty years old, to 
help our countrymen fight for liberty. How 
he fitted out vessels with his own money,, 
and freely offered his time, his fortune, and 
his life, if need be, to our cause. 

" Father says he remembers how bright 
and grand he appeared to him, the night 
when the Continental army left Long Island 
after the battle in which father was wounded. 
His military coat came up high at the throat 
around which he wore a white handkerchief, 
epaulets on his shoulders, and bright buttons 
down the front. And now to think he is in 
New York, and is really coming over to 



150 7^^ ' ^ Tale of 

Brooklyn to-day, and we shall see him ! I 
wonder if it's going to be a pleasant day/' 
and Jansen sprang to the window to catch 
the first rays of the sun lightening the eastern 
sky. 

'' It's going to be a glorious day, only very 
warm. I'm going for my breakfast. 

The boys were at the ferry a long time 
before they saw the crowd, which always 
surrounded General Lafayette while upon his 
visit to America, embark from the New York 
side of the river. They watched the boat's 
progress through the water, then, amid the 
music of the band and shouts of tlie people, 
this grand old hero stepped upon Long 
Island once more, under circumstances as 
unlike as possible to those in which he had 
left it. 

The procession formed ; military and fire 
companies, Hibernian and Masonic societies^ 
all the carriages in the village, and citizens 



The Early History of Brooklyn. 1 5 i 

on foot, to the ground where the Apprentices' 
Library was to be built. 

Addresses were made, the children sang, 
and General Lafayette laid the corner-stone 
of the new building. 

Jansen and Ned had an uninterrupted 
view of the whole proceeding from their ele- 
vated position on the high branch of a tree. 

After the exercises were over and the pro- 
cession disbanded, Jansen and Ned followed 
the carriage which contained General Lafa- 
yette to the inn, where dinner was served to 
the invited guests. As they were well 
known they were allowed in the kitchen 
where they could hear at periods the Gen- 
^eral's voice. 

Late in the afternoon one of the black 
waiters said to them : " I heard the General's 
carriage ordered up to the door. I think he 
is going to make a call on the Heights." 

Jansen and Ned ran out of the door and 



152 Jan: A Tale of 

up the steps at the foot of the hill which led 
up to the Heights. They crossed the corn 
fields and kept in view the carriage coming 
up the highway. It turned down the road 
leading to the Pierreporit mansion, General 
Lafayette looking eagerly out and talking 
earnestly to Colonel Fish of the memorable 
night when General Washington and he in 
that very mansion arranged the flight of the 
American army from Long Island by signals 
displayed from the flag- staff upon the roof of 
the house. 

His old commander and friend had gone 
to his reward. He could hardly have antici- 
pated the wonderful progress this country had 
made in twenty years, but General Lafayette 
rejoiced to see the people, whose cause had 
been so near his own heart, more than 
successful. 

At the mansion gate the boys were obliged 
to leave him, after giving three cheers with 



The Early History of Brooklyn, 153 

those who had followed the carriage. Where- 
ever he went the same love and enthusiasm 
awaited and followed him. Next to Wash- 
ington the American nation cherished the 
memory of Lafayette and his kindness to 
them. 

The boys then went to Duflon's Garden, 
where they had apples and milk, and then 
slowly walked back to Mrs. Smith's for Jan- 
sen's bundle which he wished to take home 
with him. 

Ned bade him farewell at the ferry stairs ; 
each vowing to be true boys and true men, 
loyal to the country whose struggles had 
been so clearly revealed to them on that day. 



